I'm beginning to understand why mother made him a hob. I wouldn't want him around me as he is. Her mother had understood about distractions. After Feran, Marta was beginning to understand, too. Yet there was something going on now and, she realized, had been from the day her mother died. Something she didn't understand at all. She wasn't sure if she needed to understand, but she certainly wanted to understand it.
"Are you just talking, or is there a point?" she asked Bone Tapper.
"Just that he is the last one, the scab you pick when you complain that ‘you are not your mother' and feel worthless and angry. Have done and back to witchery with all that your mother owned. Have what is yours, since that is all that seems to matter to you."
Marta's voice was a harsh whisper. "Don't attempt to dictate what I do and don't do, or presume to tell me how I feel or what matters! You've been sullen and silent since yesterday. Why have you found your tongue now?"
"Because now my words trouble you where my silence troubled you before," the raven said. "Even a slave finds pleasure where it can."
"Enjoy it while it lasts, Bone Tapper. The cost may be dear."
Bone Tapper apparently thought better of it, since he said nothing else for a time. Marta just watched the man plowing the field, looking almost as stolid and content as the oxen, though the day was sweltering and the sweat soaked his body. She watched as the day lengthened, she watched while a boy and then later a woman brought Treedle water, tarried briefly, then left again. Marta took some water herself, and a bit of dried fruit, but she watched, and kept watching, and the only thing beside the crushing weariness readable on her face was a frown that deepened until it overwhelmed all else, even the pain and weariness there.
The sun was setting before she said or did anything else. "Why?" she asked aloud. It was the question she really wanted answered. Not 'how,' though that was next on her list. 'Why' was the key, and what mattered now.
Bone Tapper cocked its head and eyed her quizzically. "I don't understand," he said, finally annoyed enough to speak again.
"Neither do I," Marta said. "I wonder what it will cost me to find out?"
Treedle turned the oxen at the far end of the field, starting up the final row. Marta emerged from the windrow and the lengthening shadows and strode purposely toward her mother's servant, the one who must in turn be servant to her. Treedle calmly finished the final row and then waited for her there. He didn't try to run. Marta almost wished that he had run. That at least would have made some kind of sense.
"I have found you at last," she said, trying her best to look grim.
Treedle just smiled. "When you look like that I can see Black Kath in you," Treedle said. "I never could before, but she's there now. Somehow you've managed to harvest her pain and carry it with you in these last few months. Or have you grown your own to match?"
Marta didn't say anything for several long moments. Then: "What was your trouble?" she said.
Treedle answered her without hesitation. He didn't try to resist, or argue, or plead as both Bone Tapper and Yssara had done. "Grief, Marta."
There was no surprise, no fear showing on his face, nothing but the same infuriating pity Marta saw there from the first. Marta realized that Bone Tapper, whether he knew it or not, was exactly right. Treedle was waiting for her, had been expecting her to find him, no, had been certain that she would find him, and that was more than Marta had been. More, as far as Marta could see he was still waiting. For what?
"And what was Mother's promise?" was all she said.
"That my grandmother, who raised me when my parents died and who I loved more than life, would not die of the Red Fever. And before you bother to ask, yes, the promise was kept. She died of plague instead a month later when I wasn't there to help her, but that wasn't your mother's fault. It was mine. I recognize my debt, Marta. Impose your rights and let's be gone, if we must."
Marta hesitated. "I want to know something first."
Treedle shrugged. "When I am your hob again you can ask what you will."
Marta looked grim. "I can ask. But my power over my servants doesn't extend to all things."
"Is that so? Why do you think that is?" He sounded like innocence itself. Marta was young, and frightened down in the deep places where she couldn't pretend she was not, and very lonely. But she was not a fool.
"I don't know," she said. "But I think you do. There's something strange going on here, yes, and more than one thing. First there is the fact that you were able to elude me. That should not have been possible. The second is this place, and you in it."
"You want quite a bit, Marta."
Marta worked her will. Treedle was a hob again. He looked up at her with big brown eyes set in a squat, ugly face, but otherwise nothing changed, including Treedle's expression. He still seemed to be waiting.
Marta took a deep, slow breath. "This is a reminder, Treedle. I could command you to follow me now," she said. "And I swear my yoke will be much lighter than the one you've found here. Why, Treedle? Why do you who toiled for so many years for my mother spend your short freedom toiling so much harder for others? Was it simply for food? Or the woman?"
Treedle laughed at her. Marta's hands balled into fists. She started to speak, but held her tongue. She waited until he was through.
"Oh, Marta... it's your time. Spend it guessing if you will. Or lose patience and haul us all off to be to you as we were to your mother. Or..." He didn't finish.
"Or what?"
"Or first you can answer a question of mine. I can't compel your answer, any more than you can compel mine. Will you answer, or will you command first and let the mystery go hang? Your choice."
"Ask," Marta said.
"Why did your mother have so many servants?"
Marta frowned. "Why? Because all debts must be paid, and not everyone had gold to pay. You didn't."
He shrugged. "Certainly not true of Yssara. But Black Kath transformed each of us into something she needed, rather than let us serve her as we were. Bone Tapper, to replace her weak eyes. Me, to serve far better than her own arms. Yssara, to be her legs. Now, your eyes are clear, your arms and legs are young and strong. So tell me—why should we serve Red Marta as we did Black Kath?"
"I..." Marta stopped. The shock of recognition rooted her to the spot. It was a Law, and the same one she had touched before. It was right in front of her, if only she could see it, if only she didn't think too hard or clutch too tightly. Like a butterfly that would only land if she did nothing wrong, held her breath, remained still. When Marta spoke again, she gave the answer to herself as well as Treedle. Her constant frown smoothed into amazement. "You shouldn't, should you?"
Treedle grinned broadly. "Your mother said you were a bit slow, but not deadly so. I see she was right."
Marta looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time in her life. "It was you, Treedle. You buried her."
"Yes."
"Why?" she asked again, and it was all the questions rolled into one: Black Kath's grave, the plowing, everything.
Treedle leaned forward and beckoned. Marta leaned close and he whispered the answer: "Because all that," he said, "was my choice."
Marta stared. "That's it?! That's the sum of it? What neither my mother nor this woman could command, you did of your own will?" She didn't speak for a moment, and when she did speak again there was wonder in her voice. "That is the sum of it. I've been an idiot."
Treedle the hob grinned ear to ear, which in a hob is something to see. "Your mother said it was a Law of Power, Marta. She couldn't teach you but she thought, perhaps, she could lead you to it. You had to earn it, and I agreed to help. That's why you couldn't find me right away—I was already in your service, and honoring your mother's last wish."
Marta didn't say anything for a long time. She finally looked up again, her eyes glistening. "I have the words now: 'What Can't be Taken, Can be Given.' It's the Second Law of Power."
"Fine words, but only words, to me," Treedle
said. "Though I understand them as true enough. I imagine they mean something more to you."
"Clever, Mother," she said softly. Then she smiled, faintly. "And clever Treedle." Marta closed her eyes for a time, then nodded. "I thought as much. Your freedom served me better than your obedience ever could. Your debt is paid, Treedle. You're...you're free of me. I hope you'll be happy."
Treedle stood as a man again. He was smiling, but there was still pity in his eyes. Marta could not wipe it away nor could she bear the weight of it. She turned abruptly to get away from him, to go anywhere that pity was not, but Treedle reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. She started to pull away from him, but Treedle's grip was firm, if gentle. "You'll have enough trouble making your own way, Marta. You'll have enough pain of your own. You shouldn't carry your mother's, too. She loved you, if she loved anything in this world; she wouldn't want that."
Marta stared at the ground, her hands still clenched tight, gripping hard on nothing at all. "You don't know, you can't understand. Mother..."
"She's dead, Marta. I do know—I buried her, remember? Past time you did the same."
"I'm sorry....I can't. I won't—"
"Remember what I told you on the road to Karsan? Well, now I'm a free man once more. Free to be your friend again, if you need a friend. I think you do."
Marta had no more strength to stand or to fight the tears, and this time she lost. And won. Treedle put his strong human arms around her and she didn't resist as the first racking sobs overwhelmed her.
"It's all right, girl. Let it go."
Marta didn't stop crying for a very long time, and Treedle held her safe until she could stand on her own again.
CHAPTER 15
"The sun sets whether the day is done or not. It rises, regardless of the business of the night."
—From the Annals of Dommar the Beast
Marta couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well as she did on the hay in Genfyr's barn. She woke just as dawn showed as a pink glow in the east. The boy called Jacky looked tentatively around the door.
"Mistress Marta? Are you awake?"
Marta yawned. "Yes, Jacky. Good morning."
"'morning. Mother says breakfast will be ready soon, if you're hungry."
"Thank her for me. I'll be along shortly."
Bone Tapper still had his head tucked under his wing. Marta started rolling up her blankets and shaking out the hay. "Wake up. Time to be up and about."
Bone Tapper stretched his wings. "This is not the way I expected this meeting to go."
"You sound disappointed."
"Disappointed? No. Envious. Treedle's free from you and I'm not. He has also apparently acquired a farm and a new family in the bargain. I wish I had that kind of luck."
"Luck had little to do with it. He earned his freedom. I daresay he earned the rest, too. He deserves some happiness," Marta said, remembering what Dela and Onlee had said.
"If true it's totally beside the point. Many who deserve joy never get it."
"Do you include yourself in that group?" Marta asked mildly.
Bone Tapper shook his head. "Say what you will, I know what I am. I know what I deserve and what I've gotten is probably half of what's owed me, at best. That doesn't mean I won't envy Treedle just the same."
Marta stowed the blankets in the cart. Yssara was still asleep and Marta didn't disturb him. There was no point, at least not yet. "Then why do you constantly whine about your lot?"
"Because it irritates you, and comforts me. I may not deserve comfort but, like any other living creature, I still want it."
"Fair enough," Marta said, trying not to smile. "Are you coming to breakfast?"
Bone Tapper shuddered. "Oat mush and bread? No thank you. I'll find my own meal."
"Suit yourself."
Marta slipped into the near woods to deal with nature then drew a bucket from the well to wash in. After that she joined the rest for breakfast in the farmhouse. Bone Tapper was right about the oat mush and bread, but for her part Marta had no complaints: the meal was warm, filling, and delicious. Genfyr accepted her thanks with a smile, but kept a bit of distance. Marta didn't blame her for that; unlike the townsfolk at Averdale, Genfyr had reason to be suspicious of her. No doubt Treedle had told Genfyr the whole story by now and she must have known how close Marta had come to taking Treedle away from her.
When all was done Marta went with Genfyr back to the well basin to wash the crockery. When all was done Genfyr spoke to her just as Treedle emerged, dressed for the fields. "We'll...we'll be off to the fields in a moment to finish the planting. You're welcome to stay if you'd like," Genfyr said.
Marta knew the offer was sincere enough, yet even as the Second Law spoke of offers, that did not mean that all things given should be taken. She smiled. "Thank you, but no. I'll need to be on my way this morning."
"Where are you going?" Treedle asked.
"To correct a mistake," Marta said. "I think you know the one I mean."
"I suspect," Treedle said. "Something to do with Yssara?"
"Yes."
Genfyr looked from one to the other. "Who is this 'Yssara' person?"
"My horse," Marta said. "It's rather hard to explain..."
"That's all right," Genfyr said. "I doubt I would understand. I need to be in the field."
Treedle smiled at her. Marta wondered if anyone would ever smile at her just that way. "I need a word with Marta, Genfyr. Don't worry; I'll be along."
"See that you are," Genfyr said. "Goodbye, Marta."
"Goodbye, and thank you."
Marta watched her go. "You're going to marry her, I assume."
"No time now, but as soon as we finish the planting, yes. There's a priest of Astonei in Wittanplace. We've told Jacky, in case you wondered. He took to the idea better than I thought he might."
Astonei?
Marta thought for a moment. It was the name of a Power and sometime goddess, just as Amaet was. She'd heard the name, or read it, not too long before. Something about a shrine? She couldn't quite remember. So much had happened in the last few days.
"You seem to know what you're doing, Treedle. What you want and how to get it. I envy that, I have to tell you."
Treedle shrugged. "You're doing fine, Marta. I think even your mother would have said as much."
"There Arrow Path may be a path, perhaps literally, but there are no road marks," Marta said wistfully. "I wish it were otherwise." She smiled then. "And you won't be around to lead me to the next one."
"You'd have to find it on your own in any case. Just as you did the Second Law. Are you going to be all right now?"
Marta knew what he meant. She wasn't sure what the answer was, but she said, "I think so. My tears didn't change anything that I have yet to do, though. Nor perhaps even the way I have to do it, since I'm working this out as I go."
"That wasn't what the tears were about."
"I suppose... You know, I thought I was being strong, not giving in to grief," Marta said, marveling at her own thick headedness.
Treedle put his hand on her shoulder. "Fare well, Marta. If you ever need a place to run to, remember us."
Marta watched Treedle go off towards the fields where Jacky and Genfyr were waiting for him. Marta finally went back to the barn, where Bone Tapper and Yssara were waiting for her. Bone Tapper landed on her shoulder and she got a sniff of his breath.
"Whew...I don't want to know what you had for breakfast, Bone Tapper, so don't tell me."
"As you wish, though it was lovely. What now? Are we going home?"
Marta shook her head. "I won't find the Third Law at home."
"How do you know that?"
"I don't. But I do remember something my mother said: You find the Laws of Power to prevent them from finding you. I don't want the Laws to sneak up on me. I think that would be very dangerous."
"So you seek them," Bone Tapper said. "And it's a life on the cold hard ground for us. Why am I not surprised?"
&nbs
p; "You perch in trees," Marta pointed out.
"I was speaking figuratively. So, and all right then: where are we going?"
"Bone Tapper, do you remember reading about a Power called Astonei at the archives?"
"Astonei...yes. Her main cult is centered on a place called the Basilisk Shrine, south of the Longbone River. What of her?"
Marta blinked. That was it. How could she have forgotten?
"Yes. The Basilisk Shrine. That's where we're going."
"That's at least twenty leagues from here! What makes you think the Third Law is there?"
"Nothing at all. I choose to go there, since it may be. And I hate to tell you, but it's considerably farther than twenty leagues, since we need to head back toward Karsan first."
"Karsan? I thought you said we weren't going home."
"We're not. Or at least, not to our home."
Bone Tapper didn't ask what she meant, though he clearly didn't understand. It was only when they arrived at their destination some days later that Bone Tapper saw what she had meant.
"This is Yssara's home," Bone Tapper said.
"Yes."
Yssara frowned. Marta had never seen a horse do that before. Not even one that was really a dragon. Marta had Yssara pull the cart into a thick grove of oak trees nearby. Then she unhitched Yssara from the cart and led him out and toward the cave. For once he obeyed her pull without trying to bite her. He seemed more confused than anything.
"Yssara, I know you can hear and understand me. I want a real horse," she said to him.
The entrance to Yssara's cave was clearly visible. He looked at her with as much astonishment as a horse can show, but only briefly. He started quickly for the opening, and Marta grinned.
"Not as easily as that. You still owe a debt."
A horse's throat and lips are not well suited for human speech, but he managed. It was the first time he had spoken since Marta reclaimed him from the same spot months ago. "What do you want?"
"You will bring me gold from your trove to the value of twelve crowns...and don't deny you have it. I know better. I said I want a real horse and I meant it. A good horse. You're going to buy your freedom from me, Yssara."
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