by Power, P. S.
"All right, love. Don't eat too much though. I don't want to see you making yourself sick." This came from Sam, who got a smile from his wife and a slightly annoyed look from his son-in-law.
Kevin just shook his head and made a disgruntled sound.
"We have to be careful with the sweets. Else Hadis will be up half the night and refuse to settle. These two don't have to deal with it, so'as like as often they feed her up with treats and send her back here for the night. Well, nothing's too good for my little girl." The happy demeanor faded on the last line, and he glanced at his daughter. It wasn't a mean look, but there was less pleasure in it than she would have expected. Maybe because Will Butcher had touched her? Kevin could be feeling bad over that, having failed to protect her.
Or maybe it was something else?
Pran didn't know for certain, but didn't think he was harming the girl at all. She acted completely happy, and skipped into the little room at the back of the kitchen. The pantry. When she came back there was a small ceramic pot in her hands, which had both a lid and a cap of wax on it, for freshness. It was well made and rather cute. With a brown glaze on the outside.
Sam saw her looking at it and nodded once, understanding that she was looking at the pot and not the promised treats inside.
"We have a nice clay bank down by the east river. Three times a year or so we run the wood kiln, and the whole town gets what we need as to cups, bowls and pots then. It's a huge old thing, but it works. This one was done..." He seemed lost for a second and looked at his wife, who picked it up and glanced at the bottom of the thing.
"It has the owl mark." It was still sealed, but she put the lid back on and turned it so that everyone could see the little design scratched into the clay on the flat and unglazed bottom of the thing. "That would be six years ago now?"
Sam made a face.
"There was a time when I would have known that without looking. Six years. It doesn't seem that long ago. Well, anyway, we do the work locally." This was clearly directed at Mara, who instead of insisting she wasn't the tax man looked at it closely, taking it from the older woman's hands from across the table.
"A wood fired kiln used a few times a year shouldn't be a problem. If I can look at it after the meal? Just to check for energy use and all that. Any mills, or factories you have too. We might as well do the whole thing, since we've already got the main inventory out of the way. I like your organization by the way. Half the places we go just throw things in any old way. This was a lot more efficient." She sipped her own drink, and then looked at it considering.
Pran didn't nod, but it was a close thing. There hadn't been any cider in the warehouses. It could be a private thing, of course, or even something they'd paid for themselves, but this area would grow apples. Part of the planks she'd traded for were apple wood. They had a lot of dried ones too, and some fresh. No pressed cider though? Not for the whole village to use, if things got tight? What were they doing with it?
She held the question off her face, trying to work it out. It seemed like an obvious thing, but she didn't have the context needed for it all to work in her head. Mara would probably know, this kind of thing being part of her job. Maybe they'd traded it all away, except a small bit for personal use? Or turned it into hard cider and...
She wanted to roll her eyes, but didn't. That made sense. It wasn't illegal to make hard cider, but it was heavily taxed. All hard beverages were. They seemed really concerned with avoiding all the payments to the government they could, so it was probably hidden away.
Lyse may not have been brilliant, but she was a good cook, doted on her daughter and was polite to everyone. The only bit of trouble with her came near the end of the meal, when she tried to pass more of the jam to Pran, being a good hostess.
"Would you like more, miss?" Holding it out, she seemed pleased. It was actually very good, so Pran could see that being fair. It was fine to take reasonable pride in work well done.
Before she could say no however, still drugged enough that she wasn't really hungry, even though she'd eaten, since Mara had said to, Sam gasped.
"She didn't mean any harm!" He looked ready to run, and the others seemed at about the same level of panic, except for Hadis, who seemed involved with her own bit of bread at the moment, and Lyse who seemed like she was just confused. "Please, she's a good girl. She didn't mean to give insult to you."
Pran shrugged. "None taken. I mean, I am a girl, so why would I? Honest, I don't go around shooting everyone that crosses my path. Don't worry about it." She winked at Lyse and then smiled at the others, who seemed more worried rather than less.
Mara laughed. It wasn't her real chuckle either, but a fake thing that seemed practiced.
"Oh, it's the hair, which is why she didn't mention it to you all, before. It would have been a grand lark, when she showed up later in a dress, don't you think? There's a good story behind the haircut too. You should all ask her about it later, when she's performing. Right now, we should start making the rounds. I hate to rush your meals, but the light will fade." She stood, and that got the rest of them to as well, making the whole thing officially over.
She'd have to ask later about that. The others had been sitting there for nearly half an hour after the food came. How long did they normally take? Before she got to the door, Kevin settled back down.
"If I'm not needed, I'm going to stay here, for a proper meal time. We cut this one nearly an hour short. Makes me half glad that I'm not with the government, if they make you hop like this all the time." He smiled about it, which made his light colored beard twitch a bit.
Mara turned at the door.
"This was a luxury for us, sitting so long. Thank you for your hospitality."
Pran echoed that part, finally remembering her manners.
"Yes, thank you Lyse, the meal was lovely. Bye Hadis." She waved and the little girl took a bite of jam and bread, managing to smear a bit of it on her face. She waved back though, with the crust.
"Bye. I can come hear you sing?" The tiny face looked around, but no one shouted no or anything.
"Well, if it's not too late for you, then yes. Hopefully The Lament, our airship, will be back by then, so that I have my instruments with me. We camped out last night, and I didn't want them to get too cold."
That was good enough for the little girl, who seemed glad enough to hear that small people weren't forbidden entertainment. Sam however turned and started grilling them about what camping out meant. At first she thought he might be mad about the use of the woods, but it wasn't that. He was just horrified that two women would be sleeping in the cold like that.
She didn't explain about the lack of any real rest at all. Neither did Mara.
"Ah, well, we'd said that we'd be here, and couldn't let you down. Shall we?" She waved her hand forward, but Mildred took the lead, taking them to the butcher's shop first.
After a bit she hesitated, having let herself in.
"I don't rightly know that he has anything that would be against the law, Guardian, but it's a place to start. The type to do one bad thing might be the kind to do two. He might have a secret cellar or something like that, don't you think?" It was said as if that were simply a fact, but Pran couldn't help but notice how very hard the woman was working to lead them to the Butcher's shop. All the talk about the meat, and what to do with it, now leading them to a personal home, when Mara had asked about large energy use situations.
This place didn't have anything like that, Pran was willing to guess.
Mara stood for a bit, doing no more than glancing around. It was clear that this wasn't lost on her as bizarre, she just didn't seem to catch the thread the woman was tossing out to them. Pran held up her right hand suddenly. It got everyone to stop and turn toward her.
"What is it Mildred? Why have you been pushing us towards this place? What is it that you know, or think you know? Does it have something to do with Lyse and Will, and why Hadis looks like she could be his child?" It was a horribly rud
e thing to accuse anyone of, she knew. She was just too drugged to care, she realized. There was no fear, which meant that she was free to simply speak. It was kind of refreshing, even though she didn't often hold her tongue completely.
Sam looked at the woman, and she froze in place, as if she didn't know what to do at all.
"I... don't know what you mean." Except that her words were so clearly a lie that Mara, who was watching her in a trance, much like the one that Judge Claire used at her trials, snorted softly.
"That's a lie. Mildred, share with us. Now."
There was no speaking for a long time and finally a very worried Sam looked at his wife, his eyes going dark. If he were younger, Pran would have expected violence. What they got was a bit of sharp barking from the man.
"What is it? You told me that he touched her! We told everyone. They almost killed him! What is this?" If it was some kind of shorthand that old married people knew, then Pran hadn't heard about it, since what he said to his wife made very little sense.
When he stopped, Mildred let her face tighten, like a person expecting a blow, and moved into another room, gesturing for them all to follow along. It was a plain looking space really, but the woman moved like she knew it all well, and finally pulled up a trap door, which had a wooden staircase under it, leading down.
"It's all in here. I can't bear to look again. You'll need a light."
Mara pulled her hand light, which was electrical, and wound it for a bit, causing the thing to glow brightly.
"I'll check it out. Pran, stay here. If they try anything, shoot them both." There was a gesture toward the air rifle, before she went down. A few minutes later she came up, slowly shaking her head. She did not look happy about it at all.
"There's a cell down there. Two of them, and sexual devices. That's not illegal, but he has enough technology to outfit a small army down there. Weapons and things I don't recognize too. This isn't just a casual collector. Why didn't you simply tell us all of this, if you knew?" This was addressed to the old woman, who smoothed the front of her gray dress, under her tan jacket. It seemed very nervous to Pran.
Of course, she was holding the air rifle on her, and the woman had to know she was willing to shoot her. It wouldn't kill, but it would hurt a bit. She looked hard at the lady.
"Speak. There are some bigger things going on, and nothing you say here will be used against you. Not even if you committed a crime or two." She made it sound serious, but it wasn't. She couldn't make any promises at all, especially ones like that. The law didn't give two grapes about what some Apprentice Bard said.
But Mildred didn't know that, did she? She should, but if that thought existed in her little white haired head, it didn't show up right then, when it might have helped her.
"It won't? I don't want to go to a camp. It's just that, well, I don't look very good in all this." She mumbled the words, and Mara stepped back, instead of forward to take over.
Pran just kept lying, since no one was telling her not to.
"We have reason to think that you may be able to help us in a different matter, with this information. We have discretion in cases like this. As long as you didn't kill anyone, you didn't, did you?" It was a pacing thing, stopping the flow of words like that. It would make the performance seem more believable later.
The woman went wide eyed.
"No! Nothing like that. It was just... Lyse, she's not right. You saw that. Slow. Sweet, but she tends to think everyone is her friend. A few weeks ago she let slip to me that Will was providing more to her than just pork sausage. She was concerned, because she's with child again, missing her time, and it might be Will's."
Mara didn't so much as bat an eyelash, as if she'd already known that part.
"So, you made up the story about Hadis and had her memorize it? But why not simply tell on the man. It isn't a good thing, and a bit of a scandal, but sleeping with a woman, even getting her pregnant, isn't normally a thing that would warrant the treatment that he's... Ah. I see." She looked back at the hole in the floor, leaving Pran in the dark.
The old woman nodded, and was far more forthcoming.
"Exactly. Will said that he'd tell everyone that Lyse was a tramp, if she told anyone, which wouldn't have mattered much, since she's so gentle and sweet that everyone already knows she isn't to blame for that kind of thing. David Strong was the father of her first child, but wouldn't take her as a wife. Good enough to bed, but not wed. Kevin stepped in for us then. I snuck in here, since Lyse told me about what's under the house. I had to see it with my own eyes, but he caught me and said that if I told anyone about the devices he had, he'd call in an army to kill us all. So I made up the story and got Hadis to go along with it, to protect her mother. She's a very bright girl, you know." She seemed ready to stop there, but Mara had her go over it all, at least a dozen times, and finally nodded.
"All right. We'll handle this. I need you two to keep this quiet however. Just watch, and see if anyone comes to get the technology. If they do, don't stop them, just let them go on their way. These people are killers and we don't need anyone getting hurt. You did a good job getting us here, Mildred." She seemed to mean it.
Pran nodded along with her and everything, still pretending she was more than just a place holder for Clark. She did make it sound pretty good however, as if she actually knew what was going on.
"Right. So for the moment we need to get out of here without being seen, and make those rounds, like we intended in the first place. As soon as we can, we'll do the rest of what's needed. How do we leave without being observed?" She sounded cold, logical and like it was a real plan, instead of improvisation. Mildred showed them to the back door, which was well shielded from prying eyes on all sides.
That made sense however, given that the man had to be able to move prisoners in and out. Why else have cells? It took another two hours to check the rest of the place, and they ended just before an airship, looking large and dark against the white fluffy clouds started to come in for a landing, out at the airfield. As they started to walk back to their campsite, from the night before, Pran turned.
"Bard Benjamin and I will be back before seven. Is there a way to warm the meeting space a bit?" She wasn't hopeful, but Sam tilted his head, then stood a bit straighter, nodding.
He seemed happy enough, "you're still coming? That's more than I figured on. Yes, we can fire up the old woodstove in there, without difficulty. Thank you. Bring a wagon or sledge, so that you can take your wood back with you!"
As they trudged out of town, neither of them spoke about anything in particular, but Mara watched the area like every bush might have an attacker behind it. Pran did too, after she noticed that. After all, they just might. The one thing had proved to be different than they thought, which might mean that everything was. The last time they'd gone into a town with tech-cultists around, it had been being held hostage. Which meant this one wasn't. She knew that for certain, because she and Mara had managed to be all over it after they left the Butcher's house. The Guardian would have seen signs of that, if it was happening. Then, if it were the case, she wouldn't have mentioned it, would she? Not if they might be being watched.
Pran tried not to seem too obvious about things, but suddenly stopped, just around the bend where she'd shot Sam the day before and walked backwards in her own tracks awkwardly, matching Mara, like she'd been told to, to cover the sound. It wasn't perfectly done, and her prints looked a lot bigger than they had before, but she got into the brush off to the side and walked the path from the road to behind a very big bush a few times. That way it would look like they'd stopped to answer the call of nature.
Then she sighed and crawled under the edge of the bush, finding some dry, but very cold ground under the small evergreen leaves of the thing. They were sharp and poking things, but pretty, even in the snow. Holly, she thought. It was almost an hour later that someone came along, and they didn't move out of the town, but toward it. The man was about Paul's size and general look, and
wrapped up in warm looking clothing, but he didn't limp, so it wasn't the man himself.
He didn't act shifty or anything, but the clothing was wrong. It wasn't a normal fabric. People in this part of the world made their own, or bought some from a neighbor. On occasion they might buy it from a traveling salesman, but this stuff, even from ten feet away, just looked too nice for that. It was a tight weave, with a slight sheen to it, done in a drab green. It also had a strange fastener on the front. She thought. It could have been a decoration after all.
She was tempted to just shoot him, since she'd seen that kind of dress before. On the techno-cultists. This man even had on boots that were similar. She held back though, and waited for him to pass, noting the lumps under his clothing. Firearms. Lethal things that could kill her in half an instant. Her little rabbit gun wasn't the equal of those things. Not at all.
Neither was her flesh. Or that of little Hadis back in town, if the man was going to do something bad to everyone. No one else seemed to be coming, but the last crew of these sorts of people she'd seen had run in a large group. This could be their scout, or, honestly she didn't know. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this kind of thing.
After he got past her and about twenty feet down the snow covered path, Pran crawled out of the brush, trying for silent moving and failing. The man just turned and waited for her, and when he saw the gun he raised his hands, grinning at her a bit.
"Easy now. Easy. I'm a friend. No need for that. I just came to see about a situation here in town that my friend had gotten himself into." The man held very still however, as if she had a deadly weapon on him. So either he didn't know she didn't, or he was being far more polite than he really needed to be with her.
"Ah. What's your friend's name?" She sounded a bit flat, but warmed it up with a smile, getting a hopeful look from the gentleman in return. He was a bit younger than Paul, at a guess. Perhaps in his mid thirties? He didn't take her smiling as an excuse to go for a weapon, so at least that part worked.