Dross (Sphereworld: Joined at the Hilt Book 2)

by Caleb Wachter

  “This is…amazing,” Lorie breathed before helping her children down to the ground from the bed of the wagon. They giggled and ran hither and thither, prompting their mother to shout after them, “Stay away from that big building!”

  “We will!” they replied in chorus.

  “I haven’t really looked inside the gatehouse,” Randall gestured to the door built into the wall beside the gate, “but the walls seem to be in perfection condition so maybe we can set up the bedrolls in there?”

  “I’ll take a look,” Yordan grunted, grabbing a wicket from the back of the wagon and making her way to the half-rotten door which hung from the gatehouse’s arched doorway. “Might even find a rat or two for stewin’…”

  “Good,” Randall nodded, deciding that his top priority was to investigate the main house’s cellar. “Everyone else just stay out here,” he gestured to the courtyard, “but stay away from the bridge for now.”

  “My kids can swim, Randy,” Lorie said without a trace of rebuke or scorn in her voice.

  “Good,” he said before setting off for the rear of the main house.

  Your friends are truly remarkable in their adaptability, Dan’Moread said approvingly. Rarely have I encountered people who would be so undaunted by the prospect of moving to such a distant locale.

  “They’re survivors, every single one of them,” Randall said knowingly. “When Three Rivers fell to the Feds, only the toughest of us survived the first year—and only the flexible among those survivors made it through the second year.” He thought back to the many friends he had known prior to the Federation’s takeover of the city, and quickly shook those thoughts from his head. “Not everyone was lucky enough to be born with the strengths needed to get through that.”

  Still, she allowed, I find it remarkable.

  “Me too,” he agreed as he came to the cellar door and heard a faint skittering sound come from within. “Todd…are you there?” He nervously checked his flyl and found it was cool and dark, which made him breathe slightly easier as he awaited a reply.

  “Randall?” Todd’s innocent voice filled his mind as the Hri’tza slowly moved to the edge of the shadows. “We are alone and we are hungry…” it said, and even from within the shadows Randall could tell it was not as healthy as it had been the last time he had seen it. Its carapace was uneven-looking and its four arms seemed somehow constricted. “Can you help us?”

  Focusing his mind, Randall fueled his crystalline flyl with enough of his concentration to make it shine like a torch. Moving forward a few steps, he confirmed that the creature did not look as healthy as it had looked previously but, thankfully, it did not look as bad as he had initially feared.

  “What can I do, Todd?” Randall asked, remembering the godstone earring and unconsciously reaching up to toy with it.

  “We are hungry,” Todd replied, pointing to the earring.

  Randall had denied the creature’s request earlier simply because it had said it would not die if it did not eat. But now it was clear that, while the Hri’tza was still alive, it had suffered significantly due to its lack of nourishment.

  “All right…” he muttered as he went to remove the earring.

  This creatures bears striking similarities to a crab, Dan’Moread unexpected observed.

  “What?” he asked after removing the earring.

  I said that this creature bears striking similarities—

  “I meant ‘what’s your point’?” Randall interrupted.

  Crabs live in water, she said dryly, and, unless I am mistaken, there is now a significant amount of water nearby. Also, I understand that godstone is often found in certain river basins and beneath waterfalls. Shall I spell out the rest of my thoughts for you, or can you handle it from there?

  Gritting his teeth in annoyance, Randall grudgingly agreed with her observation. “Can you swim in the water?” Randall asked hopefully.

  “Yes,” Todd replied calmly.

  “And have you ever found godstone in the water?” he pressed.

  Todd’s strange eye seemed to blink for several seconds before he replied, “Yes.”

  Randall sighed in relief, holding the godstone earring in his hand and considering his options. He had no real use for the chip of godstone, but it did have sentimental value for him. Even so, he didn’t want to endanger Todd by making him swim in the river if he wasn’t able to find godstone there.

  “Here’s the deal,” Randall said, holding the earring out emphatically, “I want you to go into the river and see if you can find some godstone.”

  “Yes,” Todd replied serenely.

  “And I only want you to look for…umm…two days,” he held up two fingers emphatically. “If you don’t find anything in that time, come back here and I’ll give you this piece to eat. But if you do find it, I want you to eat enough to restore your strength and then I want you to come back here. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Randall said with a short nod. “But Todd, you need to stay hidden,” he said urgently. “People aren’t going to like seeing you. You’re…well, they don’t think you’re a friend,” he explained, thinking back to the difficulty he’d had in his prior conversation with the Underworld ‘demon’—which really seemed like nothing more than a frightened and lonely animal. “So look around for signs of human or Ghaevlian presence, and if they’re nearby you need to do everything you can to avoid being seen.”

  “We will comply,” Todd said confidently. “We are grateful that Randall is our friend. We smell others; did Randall bring more friends?”

  “Maybe,” Randall said skeptically, “but, for now, you can’t let them see you either. They won’t…well, you’ll scare them. Ok?”

  “We understand,” Todd assured him. “We will go now.”

  “No, wait—“ Randall began, but before he could finish his sentence the Hri’tza’s body shimmered in the darkness and seemed to vanish altogether. “Todd?” he asked in alarm. “Todd…where are you?”

  “We are here, Randall,” Todd said patiently, ‘sounding’ as though he was standing almost precisely where he had been prior to his disappearance.

  “You…you’re invisible?” he asked in disbelief.

  “We possess multiple defensive mechanisms which protect us from predation,” Todd explained. “However, we are hungry and must go to the river now.”

  “I’ll…umm…” Randall hesitated, seeing the children playing out in the courtyard, “I’ll come with you. Stay this far from my leg,” he held his hands about three feet apart, “ok?”

  “Yes,” Todd agreed.

  Randall slowly made his way out to the courtyard, hearing Todd’s softly-clicking feet against the hard-packed dirt surrounding the main house. As they came into the dimming evening light, Randall saw faint warbles of light where Todd was standing. If he looked closely, he thought he could make out Todd’s body shape in those warbles, and thankfully the children ignored him as he made his way out onto the bridge.

  “You’re sure you can do this?” Randall asked skeptically.

  “Yes, Randall,” Todd replied confidently, “we are hungry. We can swim. We will seek godstone. We will return in two days if we do not find godstone. We will eat godstone if we find it. We will avoid humans or Ghaevlians. These are our directives.”

  “Right,” he nodded, “and after you’ve eaten enough godstone to replenish your strength, you need to come back here and…well, and check in with me.”

  “We understand,” Todd said as they stepped onto the bridge. The water was nearly thirty feet below—a long drop, to be sure, but not a fatal one if the jumper knew how to dive. “We will return after consuming sufficient godstone to replenish our strength.”

  “Well…good,” Randall sighed, gesturing to the flowing river beneath them, “off you go, then.”

  A few seconds later, there was a splash beneath them. Todd’s previously invisible body immediately became visible once he hit the water, but the speed with which
he moved upriver was such that he had darted out of Randall’s sight after just a few seconds.

  A curious creature, Dan’Moread said indifferently.

  “Aren’t we all?” Randall retorted, yet again fully cognizant of the fact that he was carrying on a conversation with a sword.

  Indeed we are, she agreed.

  Randall turned back to the keep and saw Yordan emerge from the gatehouse with what looked like a possum skewered on the same wicket she had taken from the wagon. “Dinner!” she declared, eliciting looks of disgust from the children and nods of approval from the adults—including Randall.

  The sun had gone dark in the sky above, and Randall had finished his bowl of possum soup just a few minutes before the steady clickity-clackity-clomp-clomp-clomp of approaching horse hooves could be heard outside the gate.

  Drawing Dan’Moread, he moved to the gate and felt his heart rate rise as the approaching rider came steadily closer. “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” he urged Dani under his breath as Lorie, Ellie, and Yordan looked on anxiously.

  The hooves stopped clattering outside the gate and a few moments later a slender half-elven woman stepped through. She wore the Ghaevlian Nation’s colors and held a bundle of papers in her hands, and she made eye contact with Randall as soon as she emerged into the courtyard.

  “I am to deliver these to you, Baron,” she said perfunctorily while proffering the documents.

  “Thanks…” he said as he fought against his mounting anxiety. “How did you know—“

  “Please accept the documents, Baron,” she interrupted tersely. “I have other business to attend and cannot delay.”

  “Of course,” Randall nodded, accepting the thick sheaf of papers as Lorie stepped up beside him.

  “You work for the Ghaevlian Nation?” Lorie asked with mixed skepticism and reverence.

  “I do,” the courier nodded.

  “And…you just called him,” Lorie pointed at Randall incredulously, “a Baron?”

  “I did,” the courier said neutrally before turning and leaving the courtyard and re-mounting her horse. A moment later, she rode through the open gate and wordlessly set off across the bridge at a brisk walk.

  A few minutes later she disappeared into the night, leaving Lorie, Ellie, and Yordan with looks of confusion as they regarded Randall.

  It would seem that you have some explaining to do, Dan’Moread said, clearly enjoying the awkwardness of the moment as she added, Baron Pendergast.

  “Oh, shut up,” he muttered before sighing and spending the next few hours explaining that he was, indeed, some sort of noble. At the end of the conversation, he was surprised to find that the others were more convinced of his ‘nobility’ than he was.

  When they slept that night, Randall alone remained awake with Dan’Moread keeping him company. He could not help but wonder if his relationship with his lifelong friends had just been irrevocably altered in the very way he had feared it would be.

  “I think I have a rough idea of these papers,” Lorie declared after spending the better part of the day reading through Randall’s legal commitments—commitments which included taxes in amounts that staggered his mind.

  “And?” he asked hopefully.

  “And…well, you’re screwed,” she said wearily. “The majority of the lands in your barony appear to be raw, undeveloped ground with low-to-modest agricultural value. That would explain why they’re largely deserted, but the return of water to the river probably makes it a more attractive location—at least along the riverbank.”

  “We’re not farmers, Lorie,” Randall sighed, “I’m not sure how any of that helps us.”

  She shrugged, “I’m not either, but the upshot of having all that raw land is that none of it is taxable on an annual basis; those lands fall under the equivalent of tenancy laws.”

  Yordan leaned forward, briefly turning away from the batch of poultices she had been working on all day, “You mean that if they don’t produce nothin’, they don’t get taxed?”

  “That’s right,” Lorie agreed. “Even the riverbanks fall under the same tax framework.”

  “Well that’s great news!” Randall said with relief.

  “Not so fast, Randy,” Lorie shook her head grimly. “See…” she produced the operative documents and pointed to the passages in question, “undeveloped land doesn’t carry any annual taxes, but any developments made even partially out of stone-and-mortar do carry annual taxes—the amount of which is clearly defined here according to a schedule based on size, materials used, and number of occupants.”

  Randall cocked an eyebrow, “But you just said the farmland was undeveloped…”

  Lorie rolled her eyes in exasperation, but it was Ellie who explained, “She means this place, Doll.”

  Randall felt the blood drain from his face. “Lady help us…” he groaned.

  “No kidding,” Lorie snorted. “My rough estimate puts this place and the bridge out there at somewhere in the neighborhood of two thousand gold bars per Judgment.”

  “Two thousand?!” Randall cried in perfect unison with Ellie and Yordan.

  “It could be over three thousand,” Lorie nodded gravely, “depending on whether that pile of rubble on the other side of the river counts as anything but a ruin.”

  “But…but…” Randall stammered, waving his arms around the cramped gatehouse, “this is the only room in this whole place that doesn’t leak, doesn’t have rotten wood everywhere, or hasn’t been razed to the ground—the main house isn’t much more than four tall walls and a decent cellar. They can’t tax a ruin!”

  “It pretty clearly says right here,” she jabbed her finger down on the documents, “that yes, in fact, they can. ‘Maintenance of such improvements will be the sole responsibility of the lord or lady named on the property’s deed of ownership.”

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Randall held up his hands defensively, “that can’t be right. If that’s the case then someone could build something on my land and I’d have to pay taxes for it—even if I didn’t want the building there in the first place!”

  “Right,” Lorie nodded, as though there was absolutely nothing insane about such a law—which, in Randall’s mind, there clearly was.

  Randall leaned his head back against the stone wall. To say he was bewildered would be the understatement of the Judgment. “I hesitate to ask,” he gulped a dry knot which had suddenly formed in his throat, “but…what exactly is the punishment for missing a tax payment?”

  “Imprisonment,” Lorie replied promptly. “But that’s only while they investigate why you failed to pay on time. If you’re found to be in league with a foreign power, regardless of whether or not the tax monies or other forms of support were sent to such a power, you’ll be summarily executed in the traditional manner.”

  “I don’t suppose the ‘traditional manner’ is a clean death…” Randall grumbled.

  “I wouldn’t think so, but it doesn’t say anything specific in here about that,” Lorie shrugged.

  “Well at least we’ve got bureaucratic vagaries on our side,” he sniped, “because it’s not like that ever turned around and bit people like us in the as—“

  “Wait a minute,” Lorie interrupted as her eyes lit up, “wait a minute…I’ve got an idea.”

  “We build the world’s largest catapult and see if we can hitch a ride on the Wanderer next time it swings our way?” Randall quipped.

  “No,” she shuffled through the papers intently before apparently finding what she was looking for. Yordan peered over her shoulder and the two women shared a knowing look before they both grinned triumphantly.

  “Uhh…” Randall shifted uncomfortably, “you’re scaring me now.”

  You and I both, Dan’Moread said irritably.

  “I know how we can keep your tax bill down,” Lorie turned the paper around and drew an invisible line beneath a specific passage.

  Randall took the paper in his hands and examined the indicated line. It was mid-way down the t
ax schedule for improvements, well below the top two items—castles and keeps, respectively. He blinked in confusion as he re-read the line which she had indicated. “I’m not following…” he finally said in confusion.

  “There are a couple of missing characteristics which, if I’m reading this right,” Lorie explained, “invalidate it as a proper keep. The most important characteristic is that it’s not securable on all sides, and the second missing characteristic is that the walls are barely tall enough but, even granting that they satisfy the minimum height and width dimensions, there aren’t proper battlements anywhere.”

  Yordan looked guardedly optimistic as she asked, “How’d you learn so much about this kind of thing?”

  “I like to read,” Lorie shrugged, “well…I did before I wound up with the Coin. Some of the only books I had growing up were dry military epics that went into entirely too much detail regarding fortress design and construction.” She jabbed her finger down on the sheet of paper Randall was still holding, “The biggest reason that this place doesn’t qualify as a proper keep is that bridge out there. There’s no gate and no drawbridge, which means it can’t possibly be defended according to any military doctrine I’m aware of.”

  “Just how many military doctrines are you aware of?” Randall asked, still uncertain how any of this relieved the absurd tax burden he had inherited along with his noble title.

  “Two,” Lorie said dismissively before repeatedly jabbing her finger down on the paper, “but that’s not important. What is important is that, assuming we can hang a new gate and put a roof on that main house out there, this place would qualify for a lot lower tax bracket than the one occupied by proper fortresses.”

  Randall finally understood what she meant, and felt foolish for having failed to take her meaning earlier. “You’re saying—“ he began, only to be interrupted by Lorie.

  “I’m saying this place, located strategically on the only bridge left spanning the river out there, would be the perfect inn,” she declared excitedly.