by Ila Mercer
‘Hmm,’ Brother Lodorus replied. ‘As you wish. It is easy enough for me to send word. And a good word at that.’
‘I wouldn’t be without Brother Lodorus,’ Sia Fallengrove interjected. ‘He’s terribly well connected to the merchant’s guild. Why Cutty, down there at the end of the table, is Brother Lodorus’s great nephew.’
Yaron turned to look at the fellow. He could not have been any more than twenty and yet his satin trimmed sleeves, the rings on his fingers, and the gold cane that lay next to his arm spoke of great wealth. His companion, by appearances also a merchant, was dressed just as lavishly.
Cutty who had turned on hearing his name mentioned, said, ‘Sia?’
‘I was just saying that Brother Lodorus is your great uncle. And I was also going to mention that you are Yawmouth’s most up and coming merchant. Even owns that new-fangled printing press in Handover.’
‘Yes,’ Brother Lodorus said. ‘We are very proud. And it is a great boon to Dracodia. For those of you who don’t know, Cutty has just been given the title of Official Typographer to The Order. Of course, he’s too busy to personally oversee the running of the printing house, being so tied up with his other duties. So, we’ve appointed Brother Nom for the day to day running of the press.’
‘Isn’t Nom the Order’s chief censor?’ Wright asked.
‘Yes,’ Brother Lodorus replied.
‘He has quite a reputation. It’s said that he has a greater love of burning books than reading them. Can you be sure to turn a profit with such a fellow in that post?’
Brother Lodorus smiled uneasily. ‘Brother Nom is as progressive as the next fellow but finds himself in an unenviable position. Somebody must toss out the dross. It is possible he errs a little heavily on the side of caution, but I take my hat off to him all the same. I would not want his job.’
‘Wright, you mustn’t bait,’ Sia Fallengrove said in a light tone, while her eyes flashed as though she was close to anger. ‘Getting back to what I was saying before… Cutty’s accomplishments are extraordinary for one so young.’ She punctuated her statement with a fork. ‘You,’ she said turning her attention on Yaron, ‘really must find a quiet moment to talk with them. He has some very progressive ideas. In the last year, he and his father expanded their business to include a shipping trade.’
‘By that she means slaving,’ Wright said.
Sia Fallengrove glowered at her brother.
‘Have you met Senna Globbet and his wife Fraya?’ Sia Fallengrove asked, turning her attention back to Yaron.
He shook his head.
She turned her gaze to the young woman who sat next to Wright. ‘From Erin’s Keep,’ she said. ‘They have travelled further than anyone. Their Keep is on the far side of the Cawkill Ranges.’
She was not the Captain’s wife, as he’d presumed. Suddenly he felt pity for her because she was so ill-matched to Senna Globbet. She was young, maybe no more than fifteen or sixteen, with skin like fresh butter and a slight body that was as thin as a whistle. Senna Globbet on the other hand was a gnarly old wine barrel, with warts all over his fingers, which he gnawed indiscreetly at the dinner table. And, under grizzled grey eyebrows, his two piggy little eyes had wandered over the folds and curves of every young maid who entered the room.
Fraya was not showy like Sia Fallengrove’s daughters. Her dress was unadorned but elegant and modest and she did not flutter her eyes or sigh with exaggerated interest when listening to others. There was a calm solemnity to all her movements, especially in the way she listened and spoke. When Sia Fallengrove asked her if she was excited about the hunt, Fraya said, ‘I hope it doesn’t displease you Sia Fallengrove, but I won’t be joining you on the hunt.’
‘Why ever not?’ Sia Fallengrove asked.
‘I don’t care for hunting.’
‘Why did you come then?’
‘Would you leave such a pretty young wife all alone at home?’ Senna Globbet said, with a salacious wink. ‘And there was no question about coming. I love to hunt. Wouldn’t miss it for all of Dracodia. Especially when I heard that our quarry was a white stag.’ Spittle flew from his mouth.
‘Well I’m pleased about that,’ Sia Fallengrove said, averting her gaze.
And then the conversation moved to hunting, and the white stag which, Yaron learned, had mysteriously appeared a month before. Sia Fallengrove announced that the person to make a wounding shot to the animal could claim the head and antlers as a prize. Yaron glanced at Fraya. She was staring down into her lap and it was impossible to read her expression. He wondered what she felt about the possibility of carrying its head home as a trophy.
Until that evening, Yaron had never really thought about whether he liked hunting or not. It was something that had been part of his upbringing and he had often joined his uncle and the Jims on a hunt. It was not a thing of sport in their Keep but a necessity. Large game such as deer and wild goat were often the only meat they ate during the winter months. Especially in recent years.
‘So,’ Senna Globbet said, leaning back and patting the large swell that was his waistline. ‘Tell me what price a Beast goes for these days.’ He was addressing the merchants across from him.
Yaron could feel his pulse beat faster, and he had to hold his hands tightly to remind himself that he was to say nothing.
‘Forty glems each,’ Cutty said.
‘Really?’ Senna Globbet leaned forward slightly. ‘Because I heard that Shindalay only paid thirty.’
‘That was before the collapse of the vein,’ the other merchant countered, glancing quickly at his companion.
‘And second-hand Beasts? What price do they go for?’
The merchants eased. ‘That is between owners.’
‘I am asking you to speculate,’ Senna Globbet said. When Cutty hesitated Globbet continued, ‘Never mind, never mind. You’re new to the trade. Little more than pups. On the other hand,’ and he turned now to address Senna Worrel, ‘you were involved in the trade for many years, do you have any council on the matter?’
‘That was a long time ago,’ Senna Worrel said. ‘I know nothing of the trade now.’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin and reached for his wine.
There was a look in Senna Globbet’s eye that Yaron did not like. As though he had been hoping to turn the conversation in such a manner. He had the glint of a hunter honing on its quarry.
‘The Downs was once sympathetic towards Beasts, was it not?’ Senna Globbet said.
‘If you’re talking about that rumour connected to my brother, you’re wrong,’ Senna Worrel replied, gripping the stem of his wine glass so that his knuckles appeared white.
‘Hmm,’ Senna Globbet said, as he picked a piece of food out of his teeth. ‘That’s one way of putting it. What is the Downs current position regarding the ownership of Beasts?’
‘Let’s not spoil the evening with such talk,’ Sia Fallengrove said, motioning for the servants to start clearing away their plates.
‘But it is the question each of us has been wondering all evening. Except that I alone am brave enough to voice it.’
‘Really you don’t have to answer that,’ Sia Fallengrove said. A wave of annoyance flashed across her features.
Senna Worrel cleared his throat and wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘Until the embargo is lifted the Downs can neither buy or sell a Beast.’
‘Well then!’ Senna Globbet braced himself against the table. He narrowed his eyes and licked his chops. Like a wolf leaning over a fresh carcass, Yaron thought. ‘Let us imagine for a moment that the embargo has been lifted. What then?’
‘The Downs will not be trading in Beasts,’ Yaron blurted out, and almost immediately regretted his words. This was the very thing his uncle had warned him not to do.
‘May I ask why?’ Senna Globbet said. ‘What is your objection? Is it so morally reprehensible to profit from another creature’s toil? As a privileged Senna of a Keep surely you realise your entire wealth relies on the efforts of your servants and anim
als.’
Senna Worrel piped up, ‘I believe my nephew meant we are now too humble to enter the trade, even if it were possible.’
‘Did he? Is that what you meant, boy?’
Yaron could not answer. He shot a glance at his uncle. His lips were held in a grim line, and his eyes bore into Yaron’s.
Wright cleared his throat, ‘I have something to say against your view of the trade,’ he said.
‘You said that you needed to leave straight after dinner,’ Sia Fallengrove said to her brother. ‘Shouldn’t you be saddling your horse?’
‘I can afford to tarry a little longer.’
‘I see you are bent on ruining our dinner. You promised you wouldn’t.’ She threw her napkin on the table.
‘He asked, Meren,’ Wright entreated.
‘Indeed,’ Senna Globbet said as he loosened his collar. ‘I would be interested to hear the counter-argument.’ Bowing his head to Sia Fallengrove he said, ‘And we will conduct ourselves like gentlemen. A fine debate can only enhance what has been a wonderful meal.’
‘You should know from the outset that I am against the Beast Trade,’ Wright addressed the table. ‘And I have taken it upon myself to tell – anyone with an enquiring mind… such as yourself Senna Globbet – everything that I have witnessed.’
Senna Globbet swelled ever so slightly and nodded. At last, his shining eyes seemed to say, someone who can perceive a fine intellect when he sees it.
Wright continued, ‘I can only assume that you’ve never stood in the holds of a slave ship.’
Senna Globbet shook his head. ‘Can’t say I have.’
Wright leaned forward a little and lowered his voice, as though he were sharing a secret with them. ‘The first thing you notice is the smell. A putrid stench of rotting flesh, piss and vomit. Sorry Sia’s,’ he said, turning to address Fraya in particular, ‘But it’s true. And then, you notice how dark it is – that’s if you’ve been brave enough to extinguish your lamp. It is an endless dusk in which you can see the form of things but never any detail. That is how the Beasts travel.’
Yaron noted that Sia Fallengrove glowered at her brother, and that her arms were crossed tightly across her chest. Wright continued though, raising his voice so that he could be heard. ‘Fewer than half the captured Beasts ever see our shores. They die before they get here. From lack of proper air and water. From festering sores, disease and heat. Yes, from heat! Though it is cold and fresh above deck, the slaves are made to lay in bays no bigger than coffins. But worse than this are the manacles that are clamped about their wrists and ankles.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out two iron bracelets linked by a heavy chain. ‘Before they were slaves, they had lives. Their clothes and huts might be simple, but in every other way they are just like us. And that is why I cannot, in good conscience, hold my tongue.’ He stared at his sister, Sia Fallengrove, as he uttered the last words.
Yaron felt his throat tighten. He had never heard about the ships before, had never thought about the conditions by which the Beasts entered Dracodia. This fresh information made everything he had heard even worse. It was as though they were less than animals, for animals at least were tended and cared for.
‘You talk about the very worst conditions,’ Senna Globbet said. ‘I concede there are perhaps a handful who treat their slaves poorly. I agree, it is an atrocity and it must be stopped. But as for your assertion that they are the same as us? I will tell you what I think.’ Senna Globbet reached for the wine decanter. He took his time filling his glass, delighting in the fact that the others waited for him to continue. He took a sip and leaned back in his seat, adopting the pose of a sage. ‘On that point we must disagree,’ he said. ‘For you are under the illusion that Beasts are the same as us. They may parade in skins like those of a Dracodian, but there the resemblance ends. Beneath the skin, they are Beasts. No different to the oxen that plough your fields, the horses that drew your carriage here, or the fowls who laid the eggs for our pudding. Does it not say in the Cartal that man has dominion over all living-’
‘What about, ‘Under the sun all folk are the same,’’ Wright interrupted.
‘Folk? Folk? Now you equate them to men?’ Senna Globbet said. He turned to Brother Lodorus.
Brother Lodorus, who had been listening quietly to the debate, put down his mug and cleared his throat. ‘I have to say I agree with Senna Globbet. Don’t be fooled into thinking that a Beast is the same as a man. After all, would you say that a parrot is a man just because it can repeat a few words? The thing that is different about the Beast is its talent for mimicry. And that is what makes it so dangerous too.’
‘You’re right,’ Cutty said quite excitedly, ‘that is what they are. Clever mimics. Why, only last week I saw it for myself. At the Holding House, we had a hundred of them, and were to send them up to Shindalay that evening. We didn’t know it but one of the Beasts had disguised himself as a handler.
‘Just after dark, I noticed one of the handlers acting sly – standing near the door. The Beasts closest to him were restless and kept looking to him from time to time. That made me edgy and I came closer, only to find he had lifted the bolt of the door and before I could raise the alarm, he had flung it open.’
‘Yes,’ the other merchant interrupted, ‘They broke for the open door.’
‘Luckily,’ Cutty said, taking over, ‘I had already pulled my pistol. I fired at the Beast that looked like a handler but missed. Somehow it was enough to startle the rest of them. It gave our lads a chance to jump in, which they did, holding the Beasts back from the moonlight that fell into the room. Then before you knew it, the disguised Beast began to change. Lord what a sight! As though hell itself had opened its doors. In the centre of the hellfire was a whirling mass of feathers, claws and beak. Soon enough, in the place where a man once stood, a raven rose to the rafters, screeching like the devil hisself. I took aim again, this time clipping its tailbone with a bullet. Next thing it fell to the floor, and we finished it off before it had a chance to cause any more strife.’
‘When it was dead,’ the other merchant said, ‘it didn’t change back to a man. It stayed as it was. A Raven – the devil’s own bird.’
‘It proves nothing about the soul of a Beast,’ Yaron blurted, suddenly remembering the kindness of another Beast, long ago. His ears burned, and he could feel a hot flush spread from his throat all the way to the top of his ears. He caught Wright’s eye, and the older man nodded wearily.
‘And there is nothing to prove he was a man,’ Brother Lodorus said, ‘except for one thing… Can you change into a bird, Senna Yaron, or a fox, or a fish?’ He waited for a reply but Yaron refused to lift his eyes, nor did he look at his uncle, afraid that Senna Worrel must be furious by now.
Wright spoke quietly. ‘It’s an interesting theory, Brother Lodorus. But I think what the young Senna was trying to say is this: a noble spirit knows another when he meets it. Perhaps gentlemen, you too will know this when you finally meet a Beast. And by this,’ he said waving aside the merchants’ objections, ‘I mean under conditions where you can meet as equals. Not in some holding pen, down a mineshaft or inside someone’s combing rooms. Now if you’ll excuse me,’ he said pushing his chair back, ‘I have business in Yawmouth at first light. Thankyou for your excellent meal Meren. Good evening Sias.’ He bowed to Fraya. ‘Sennas.’ And then he was gone. The manacles, Yaron noted, remained on the table.
Sia Fallengrove apologised for her brother’s behaviour and the Sennas pretended, or so it seemed to Yaron, that they had found the debate enlightening, good sport, and that on the whole no-one would walk away feeling slighted.
Senna Worrel would not look at Yaron, his attention fixed on his wine glass. Yaron knew his uncle would have plenty to say when they were alone, later.
‘Despite what your brother says,’ Senna Globbet said, ‘I don’t think sentiment and feeling can counter our argument. We live in a time now where we require logic and evidence. I say a man is, by definition, al
ways a man. He does not change. But being a man of logic, I am willing to be challenged on my notions. I will keep my mind open until I meet a Beast.’ His tone altered, and he addressed Senna Worrel. ‘I have heard the Downs houses many strange misfits. Could it be your nephew spoke from experience? It would not surprise me at all if it harboured a fugitive Beast.’
‘In his childhood, he was befriended by a Beast who lived briefly in our Keep. He was not old enough to understand the Beast’s betrayal, when it came. So you must forgive his youthful ignorance. I assure you our Keep harbours no Beasts,’ Senna Worrel said.
‘It’s just as well,’ Senna Globbet replied. ‘You have heard, I suppose, about the Blacksmith of Illsbrook?’
Senna Worrel shook his head.
‘Took in a runaway she-Beast. Didn’t realise at first because it was disguised as a woman, but by the time he guessed its true identity he had developed a fondness for it, which no doubt extended to the bedchamber.
‘For a while, his she-Beast was able to hide her secret from the other villagers, but eventually someone found out and turned in the pair of them – in exchange for twenty glems of silver. The she-Beast was returned to the Smelts. The Blacksmith on the other hand was sentenced to two years hard labour down the Shindalay Shafts for the crime of stealing.’
‘Stealing?’ Sia Fallengrove said.
‘Indeed,’ Senna Globbet replied. ‘He should have returned the she-Beast to its rightful owner, as soon as he realised his error.’
‘Or offered to buy it,’ Fraya said, joining the discussion for the first time. ‘That’s what I’d have done. Then given the she-Beast her freedom.’
*
As was his custom, Yaron slept until mid-morning. Even before he had opened his eyes, he knew that he was alone. The silence had been barren. He sat up, recalling the disturbing conversation at dinner the previous evening, the tirade of anger from his uncle afterwards, and then his dreams about the Beasts. All night long.