Waiting for the Scarlet-Raven Woman

by Silas DeBoer

  ~

  It was Autumn when Inquisitor Trent of the Order of Saint Absolom came to Fensmore in search of enemies of the Church of Elene, the monotheistic Goddess that Imperials worshipped as Creator and Arbiter of Heaven and the Worlds. Why the Inquisitor came, I never knew, but I suspected some over-pious travelers at the Grand Rooster during the summer. The pair were father and son, en route from Somerset to Carlisle with a new printing press guarded by a squad of Dog Soldiers, massive bipedal brutes with the likeness of wolves or dogs, trained to act as a pack with precision of unity. Since the disappearance of the last High King many centuries ago, the Imperial Council ruled these lands with the aid of legions of well trained Dog Soldiers. When the Council introduced the Legions, a popular song swept through the Realm titled "Cry Havoc and let slip the Dogs of War!" The lands west of Carlisle had once been the tribal lands of Heathens who worshiped the Gods of Yore, such as Auberon the Stag King, Selene the Huntress, and Morgana, Queen of Cats (and according to Mother Margrette, my race's sovereign). These Heathens had long since been driven into the Western Sea, but some travelers claim that stone circles etched in runes litter the hill country to the west, and strange shapes lurk in the Heathen Wood. Few venture into those wilds, for it is easy to get lost. Travelers who avoid the toll road often go missing. In addition to these fireside tales, there was always talk of the Reavers from Thule-Across-the-Sea coming to rape, pillage and slaughter these lands again. Master and Mother Margrette were both learned in their spheres of knowledge, and I listened to every word, piecing together a hybrid sense of reality between Mother Margrette's natural world and Henry Rose's civilized sphere. For instance, Master insisted the World was actually round, proven by mathematical proofs even though anyone can see the horizon is flat.

  The rumor of the Inquisitor's presence spread like a forest fire in Fensmore, and everyone knew about him before he ever entered the village on his armored black destrier with a platoon of Dog Soldiers. Inquisitor Trent was a Northerner who wore silvered mail and chain armor, a white enamel shield with the Star of Elene emblazoned in brass, and a flowing white cloak trimmed in cloth of silver. Inquisitor Trent's face was the most severe face I have ever witnessed, with nary a smile for anyone, adorned with short cropped hair and dark soulless eyes that noticed everything. I had learned that Inquisitors were supposed to travel in pairs, serving as each other's Monitor, but Inquisitor Trent traveled only in his own authority.

  The Dog Soldiers supped at the Grand Rooster in the evenings, but Inquisitor Trent did not set foot past the threshold. Cook (a large Woman in her fifties) was harried to fill their orders, but the Dog Soldiers were a quiet bunch. Some growled at me absently, but I stayed out of their way. Catiin must be careful around Dogmen, for their race and ours are like fire and water according to Master.

  Everyone knew the Inquisitor was here for one of two reasons, because the Order of Saint Absolom existed for only those reasons; the hunting of witches, and bringing heretics to justice. Rumors spread like mushrooms in a cave as to who might be the heretic, but I reasoned out that the Inquisitor could just as likely be hunting a witch, because there was no other reason for so many Dog Soldiers. Fensmore's single Chapel to Elene lay derelict for a decade, but the Inquisitor never once visited its dark alcoves, or gazed upon the sad visage of Winged Elene, Holy Mother of the Heavens and All Worlds. I feared for Master and Mother Margrette, the two most likely suspects of heresy or witchcraft. Master led a book club, and many of his friends came to the Rooster to hear him read from his library. Some books he owned were rare, and others he only read alone.

  On the other paw Wise Women like Mother Margrette seemed like miracle workers, teasing cures out of native plants and healing with herbs and holistic remedies instead of a surgeon's scalpel and training. Similarly, Henry Rose was an outspoken Man who enjoyed argument and debate about subjects such as justice, law, and morality. Both were well regarded in the village, natural opponents to Judge Fenton and the Sheriff. Both also privately questioned the wisdom of the Imperial Council and the Empire's most recent invasion of Stormdrang, a duchy in the Eastern Marches under the pretext of pre-emptive strike against an enemy of the Realm.

  I tried to learn what the Inquisitor was up to, but being the only Catiin in Fensmore left me with few options but to spy and eavesdrop. Like most of my race, I am adept at stealth and living in Fensmore these many annums taught me every hiding spot in the village, with the Grand Rooster as the heart of my spy-craft. It was easy to determine where the Inquisitor visited due to the Sheriff's Deputies attending the Inquisitor's destrier, a massive beast of fine quality, as tall at the shoulder as the tallest Dog Soldier in the platoon. Always however, four or five Dog Soldiers remained at the Grand Rooster's common room, talking quietly in their guttural voices and watching the staff perform our duties.

  I discovered a pattern to the Inquisitor's visits around the village in those first few days. Most houses belonged to regulars at the Grand Rooster or belonged to Master's Book Club. That, coupled with the Dog Soldiers in the Common Room made me fear for Master, and myself. The word of an Inquisitor was equal to a magistrate, and Judge Fenton hosted Inquisitor Trent at his manse, a large house of a dozen rooms near the toll road offices. It was a given the two were colluding on this investigation.

  I was heading in by the back way of the Rooster to warn Master when our neighbor Anya motioned me closer. Anya was married to a large man named Ulrich who was a seasonal worker, alternately plying his trade as lumberjack and huntsman. They were good friends of Master and had always been kind to me. I looked at the Rooster and knew Master was inside somewhere, needing to be warned. I sighed and slinked quietly to Anya's gate as she motioned me to sit behind a water barrel while she absent mindedly weeded with a spade. Anya was a young wife, with two young to her credit, and already pregnant with a third.

  "Who has the cleric been talking to today?" Anya asked softly, under her breath, for she knew my hearing was keen.

  "Why should I know that?" I asked hoarsely.

  "I know you Skag, you've a sharp mind for a Cat, but playing the innocent is not your strong suit." Anya gestured with her rusting spade, and made as if to inspect it more closely.

  I sighed. "The Rothsteins, the Samuelsons, the Carsons, the Fieldwrights, and the Winters."

  "Goddess preserve us." Anya shivered, but these Autumn days had yet to turn cold. She stood up and pulled her shawl from her waist about her shoulders. "Skag, go to Henry and stay out of sight as much as possible. I think I know who the Inquisitor is investigating."

  My heart pounded in my chest, and I gave a low moan for Master. If they took him away, and found him guilty, what would happen to me? Would I be sold, or branded as a familiar to burn at the stake? Of course Master was not a witch (he could be a heretic) but Judge Fenton never liked the Rose family, and some rumors still persisted that the Judge was the one who had forced Jacob Rose into slavery with a secret trial, sentencing Master's father to work in the Imperial gem mines of Caledonia's Frost Mountains. Master had been abroad when Jacob Rose was arrested in Somerset, the wine barrels confiscated as evidence by the Sheriff's guards.

  I crept to the Rooster's front window and peered in, just able to see the outline of a Dog Soldier at the counter peering around suspiciously, a massive steel gauntleted hand fingering the heavy mace at his belt, the studs as big as a thumb. I knew that almost all Dog Soldiers were male, since the females were kept at the Kennels to rear their young. These Dogmen were not so different than myself, pressed into service by Men, but none of these would ever ally themselves to my cause. Dogmen are obedient by blood, and look to Men as their pack leaders.

  Fearful of being discovered, I edged around the window and started climbing the porch. I had long since fastened secret handholds in the roof with iron handles. Despite my deformed fingers, I still have enough strength to climb and use implements, if clumsily. Getting to the top floor of the Rooster was easy enough, and it was well known that I lounged on th
e roof as I pleased so few witnesses would remark upon me. My small room in the attic of the Rooster was accessible through an unlocked window. Inside was a nest of discarded clothing I had piled up in the corner where I slept, and in the other corner was a small shelf I had built with scrap lumber showcasing an assortment of bric-a-brac such as an Ironwood Acorn I found in the forest, the rough agate I was given by a Caledonian in lieu of coin, or a dozen other things that caught my eye and I stashed as treasures. I carefully laced up a cloth belt from Anya who had sewn small pockets for coins, so they would never jingle in a pouch when I must use stealth; it was the savings of a lifetime of tips. None of it mattered anymore if Master was arrested for heresy or witchcraft; the Rooster would go to Judge Fenton to dispose of as he pleased since Master had no blood heirs in the area.

  I listened at the interior door of my room, a trapdoor with a ladder that led to a second floor hallway. I heard nothing down below, and I chanced opening the stairs slowly. I was like a shadow, because I knew the Rooster as the back of my paw, including every squeaky floorboard. I knew that Dogmen had keen hearing, perhaps even better than my own. I carefully let the trapdoor slip closed, edged near the corner, peering with my good eye. Empty! Master's door was another hallway over, and like a midafternoon shadow I glided down the hallway. I had to tilt my head upside down to see down the next hallway with my good eye; a Dog Soldier patrolled the hallway with a heavy rattle of his gear, a simple hauberk of shining discs, a heavy shield on his back and a horseman's hammer at his waist. The Dog Soldier was tall and broad, a walking mound of muscle, with pale gray fur and a cropped tail.

  I waited until the Dog Soldier turned the corner, gave a count of three, and heard him continue down the hall. Now was my chance. I crept quickly, quietly and surely to Master's door. I turned the knob slowly, because the mechanism inside liked to click at a certain tension. As a spirit in the night, I entered Master's room and slowly closed the white painted oaken door. I turned around to see Master poring over the account books, oblivious to my presence or the danger he was in.

  Hoarsely I spoke near his elbow, and he gave a start. "Quiet Master."

  "Wh-What? Skag," Master whispered back. "What is the matter?"

  "I know why Inquisitor Trent is here, he has come for you as a heretic. We must pack quietly and leave this place."

  "Whatever are you talking about? Who did you hear this from?" Master looked around warily, listening as the Dog Soldier's heavy footfalls echoed through the thin walls. "Gilda is coming to winter here, and I can't let the Rooster become public property so Fenton can finish what he started..." Gilda was the woman Master stayed too long in Carlisle during his trips, I had never met her. Why couldn't Master have found a mate in the village? I did not know.

  "From no one, I figured it out. The Inquisitor has visited all the regular Rooster customers. The first day he visited the Bunins, the Capeks, the Yankovics and the Karpovs. The second day he visited the Margolins, the Masurs, the Valoshins and the Zhdanovs. Today he visited the Rothsteins, the Samuelsons, the Carsons, the Fieldwrights, and the Winters. These are our best customers, who you have had many deep conversations about the nature of things, of injustice, our allies against Judge Fenton. The Inquisitor is here for us." My reasoning seemed sound to me, and by the horror on Master's face, it must have been sound for him as well.

  "Then we haven't a moment to lose Skag, not a moment!" Master quickly started gathering clothes and packing them into a carryall while I listened at the door for the roving Dog Soldier. Master pilfered his safe of all letters of credit and high denomination coins. He paused once at a letter set with a black ribbon, then set it aside. He continued to pack the essentials that criminals on the run might need, including two cloaks with deep hoods, a long dagger for his waist, and an iron shod quarterstaff that had belonged to his father Jacob Rose. The son would not end up in the same mines, because Henry Rose bought the runt of Mirabel's first litter for four and a quarter silver marks.

  It took Master all of three minutes to pack every major essential aspect of his life and carry it upon his back. The letter with the black ribbon he fitted in the inside pocket of his worn fox fur trimmed grey cloak, patting it twice. I was curious what it might be, for I had never seen it among Master's papers prior to today.

  When the Dog Soldier's footsteps stopped on the far end of the hall I gave the all clear for Master to leave. We crept to the attic hatchway and Master was half as stealthy as myself, but considering he wore traveling boots while I had the soft pads of my feet, it is understandable. We climbed the stairs into the attic, and made our way to my outdoor window. Master knew I used this route almost exclusively, but he looked at my treasures with a sense of surprise; I had grown better at judging the emotions of Men's faces since I was sold.

  We waited for a few minutes before deciding to descend. I went first, to show Master where my iron handholds were fastened along the roof edge. I was a sure hand at it, like a sailor in the rigging of one of Master's sea adventure books, but he took his time, watching the street carefully before moving. At the lip, he handed me his carryall bag, and I descended adeptly down the pillar to Cook's garden, landing between the peas and leeks. I crouched low over Master's carryall bag, while Master flailed over the edge for a moment, sweat pouring from his brow.

  I hissed up at him, "More to your left."

  Master's foot missed the loop twice before catching.

  "What in Elene's holy name are you doing Master Innkeeper?" The voice was stern, bass, and judicious. My heart sank in my chest as Master glanced down at the white cloaked figure regarding us from the porch steps. Inquisitor Trent and three Dog Soldiers!

  "Uh, what do you mean?"

  "Why are you descending from the roof like your Cat servant?" Inquisitor Trent regarded me coldly, and the Dog Soldier to his left had a wickedly hooked short-sword in his massive gauntleted paw. The Dog Soldier growled at me and I gulped.

  Master leapt from his perch to the ground after tossing the quarterstaff to me. "Oh, well, this you see..." Master was searching for an answer.

  My mind raced and suddenly I blurted out in a hoarse voice, "It was a wager, and Master won! I did not think you could do it."

  Master picked up the quarterstaff off the ground and dusted himself off. "Well, let that be a lesson to you Skag, that Men can be just agile as a Catiin when we need to be."

  "Yes, well, it is firmly part of doctrine that the Goddess Elene placed Wolfiin and Catiin as helpers to Mankind, however, I urge you Master Rose not to believe you can match a Dog Soldier's strength or the agility of our feline brethren of the faith. Such is folly to take serious the jests or japes of your own Cat Servant. You could have broken your neck! Mankind must use our minds as the Goddess crafted us alone in Her image, to direct and plan, to discern and lead. Our faithful friends among the bestial races know their place and so should you." Inquisitor Trent sniffed imperiously at the pair of us.

  I was surprised at how cordial our persecutor appeared. I was waiting at any moment for the order to be given to arrest us both. Obviously we were caught fleeing. Was the Inquisitor toying with us?

  "Ah, well, thank you for the lesson Inquisitor Trent, if you don't mind, I've an errand to run that cannot afford any more tarrying..." Master bowed once and began to walk away through Cook's thyme plants.

  "Not so fast Master Rose, what long journey might you have planned with the jingling of coin in your purse and so full of a carryall? Your Cook informed me you were upstairs doing accounts, and when I knocked, no answer came. What are you up to exactly?" The Inquisitor must be toying with us, what with his looks of concern and growing suspicion. This was an excellent actor, much better than the minstrel who played the common room for three weeks this past summer.

  "A friend in need of monetary relief, as it were." Master replied as nonchalantly as possible.

  Inquisitor Trent laughed and smiled. "Well, they shall wait, I have questions for you."

  Master grew pale in the f
ace. "Well, um, if that is so, I... suppose my friend can wait a little while longer." Master patted the inside pockets of his cloak, found the letter tied with the black ribbon and handed it to me. "Please Skag, take this to our neighbor so she can read it aloud to you. Go on, there you go." Master pressed it into my furry hands, gripping my shoulder with his other arm and gave me a brief hug. He whispered "Goodbye my friend" just loud enough for me to hear.

  With a hitch in his voice, Master smiled amiably at the Inquisitor and said, "Let us be inside then."

  I watched in horror as Master was escorted by an Inquisitor of the Holy Order of Saint Absolom flanked by three Dog Soldiers of the Imperial Legion... for questioning.

  I picked up Master's carryall, his quarterstaff, and the letter clutched close to my homespun cloth tunic. My baggy pants hitched as I walked to Anya and Ulrich's house next door, afraid to hear Master's screams of anguish. I leaped over Anya's fence and crept in shame to her door, knocking quietly. On the third knock, Ulrich opened the door, looking around and frowning when he saw me.

  "Skag, come in quickly!"

  The Man's large hand grabbed me by the tunic and pulled me in. He was broad across the shoulders, with arms the equal of any of the Dog Soldiers lounging in the Rooster's Common Room.

  "They took Master... they are questioning him now." I broke down weeping for Master. Any minute I was sure to hear Master's cries.

  "What? Why question Henry... This doesn't make sense." Ulrich often talked out loud. The woodsman was dressed in his travel clothes, with buckskin trousers, knee high boots, a studded leather tunic and a dark green hooded cloak set about his shoulders. A quiver of arrows hung from his belt while a large hunting knife as long as a forearm was strapped to his leg. That's when I saw Anya in the back room, trying to calm her two small children who seemed upset at something.

  "Master... gave me this and told me you must read it aloud." I held the letter with the black ribbon in one hand, shaking it in my terror of the moment.

  Ulrich looked at it and turned it over. "Anya, you are the better reader. I'll see to the lads."

  Ulrich switched places with Anya, handing off Master's letter in the meantime. Anya unlaced the ribbon and opened the letter's many folds, laying it on the table with light from the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. Her face grew grim for a moment, until it lightened.

  "Oh Skag, this is your Indentured Contract, this means you are a free Catiin with all the rights and privileges of your new station. Henry planned on freeing you upon his imminent death or if Fenton went after the Rooster again." Anya sighed. "This makes no sense, the Inquisitor is here for Mother Margrette, not Henry."

  Surprise registered on my face. Hoarsely I croaked, "What? But... the Inquisitor has been visiting every regular at the Rooster for the past three days. It has to be Master they want."

  Anya grimaced again and sighed. "No, he visited every family with a new birth in the past decade. Mother Margrette midwifed nearly every birth for the last thirty annums in this village. So few babies die under her care, that is what makes her suspicious."

  "But... the Winters only have the one child." I countered.

  "Yes, Margrette's apprentice. Tabitha will be the prime witness at Mother Margrette's trial."

  I sat down heavily, unable to breathe. Mother Margrette had saved my life. In a way, she had midwifed me into my life in Fensmore. I owed her more than my life, I owed her a sense of self respect; she had treated me well, never talking down to me, never belittling me, always encouraging me to learn. She had taught me the ways of the wild with stories passed on by a dozen generations of her ancestors, so unlike the stories told in the rest of the village. I knew I had to help her.

  "Then what do they want with Master?"

  Anya shook her head. "I don't know Skag, but the stories say Witches generally have familiars, Henry has been Mother Margrette's most public friend in the community. Either they want him, or they want you. My guess is it is Henry."

  "Does she know yet? She needs to leave." I said hoarsely, looking at the door.

  "Yes, Ulrich and I went to see her just now, but she refused to leave. She's waiting in the cabin to be arrested, sure of her innocence. Everyone knows the trials are a farce with pre-determined outcomes... and the village will suffer from her absence." Anya touched her own belly lightly with worry etched on her face. I knew that look because it was always on Master's face when he balanced the accounts.

  "Please, look after Master's things for me." I bowed low to Anya, who folded up my Indentured Contract, handing it to me.

  "Convince her to flee Skag. She needs to live." Anya smiled hopefully at me.