“Is this about the fee, Councilman? Because, I -”
“It is well you came as quickly as you did,’ interrupted Brinchley, standing up. “I was in the process of sending a message to you.” He put his hands on the table and exhaled through his nose. “The Festival won’t happen in Eirdale. It has been cancelled.”
Nathyn’s face fell. “What?”
“I take it you have come to pay the two hundred silvers for the fee?” He waited for Nathyn to nod. “The Miernan agent arrived here this morning to deliver the news in person to myself and Foreman Allium. He tells me that prices are increasing in Miern, as have the costs of travel – particularly the great distance from Miern to here. Keeping the trade routes safe and open is apparently becoming more and more difficult. He informed me that our fee has been duly increased.“
“Well, we will just find a way to come up with more, obviously,” replied Nathyn earnestly. “Even if we have to borrow money or sell our stockrooms of supplies, we will do it! We can all contribute from our personal savings, we c- ”
Brinchley lifted his hand. “I think not, Nathyn. It’s rather more than you can afford.”
“You underestimate the value of Eirdale, Councilman,” said Nathyn. “I’m sure that with some help from our neighbors we could raise as much as fifty, maybe even nearer a hundred more.”
Brinchley smiled sadly. “I’m afraid the fee has been increased to -” he crinkled his mouth up in disgust, “- five hundred silvers.”
Nathyn took a step back. “That… That’s ridiculous! Five hundred?”
“I was as shocked as you.”
“But what will we do? We rely on the Festival for so much – the whole Forest does! It has been an unbroken tradition for hundreds of years!”
“I understand what you are saying, Nathyn, and I obviously voiced my concerns to the agent. But he was uninterested in negotiating.”
“This is terrible…” Nathyn ran a shaking hand through his hair.
Brinchley straightened up. “I was not going to be beaten that easily, though, Councilman. I also believe, as you do, that our Forest needs the Festival - must have it. I spoke with Foreman Allium and we intercepted the agent before he made it to the Pass.”
“And?”
“We offered for Three Ways to take over the hosting and emptied our own coffers to pay the fee. We only just come up with the required amount ourselves - at the expense of much of next year’s trading, I’ll have you know.” Brinchley smiled. “So you see, Nathyn, all is not lost. The Festival is rescued!” He walked up to Nathyn and grasped one of his shoulders in a bejeweled hand. “Of course, Eirdale will be offered stalls and performance slots – don’t worry about that, my friend. We know all too well the valuable contribution that our southern neighbor can make.”
“But, but, we’re preparing for it - even at this moment. It’s our turn, after all.”
“Councilman Tovier,” Brinchley’s face tightened, “I was hoping to avoid this, but… this irrational attitude forces me to bring it up. You have jeopardized trade for the whole Forest after the incident with the Miernan. Do you have any idea how hard it is to persuade people to leave Miern to travel through the brutal Pass to come here? We’re only the tiniest sliver away from losing touch and fading into nothing, Tovier. Nothing! We spend every day trying to strengthen ties with Miern, only to find out that all our efforts have been in vain because our southern neighbor doesn’t know how to treat its guests!”
Nathyn suddenly registered what he was talking about. “The trader…”
“That’s right, Councilman. The whole appalling incident had already reached the ears of the agent when he came to me. It was almost a catastrophe! You gave me no choice; as I said, we must have a Festival. And it will now be here in Three Ways.” Brinchley shook his head and sat back down at his desk. “Now, I’m very busy, Councilman. I will send word of what Eirdale’s contribution will be.”
Nathyn numbly turned and walked out the door, holding the bag of silver pieces in his hand.
. . . . . . .
The lavishly dressed Miernan snorted as he entered Brinchley’s office from the adjoining room. He slid his rotund body onto a divan and took a sip of a cup of steaming spiced coffee as Brinchley sat down opposite him. “I overheard the end of your conversation, I’m afraid. Tell me more about this trader. It sounds a promising tale.”
Brinchley waved a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing, Nabolek. A Miernan visited a southern village and after some misunderstanding, there was incident in which he was assaulted, apparently. He’s since returned to Miern.”
Nabolek raised an eyebrow over his coffee. “Assaulted, you say?”
“Just a minor altercation, really. Nothing to worry about,” said Brinchley. “And all the more reason to have the Aeril Festival here in Three Ways so that we can ensure the safety and enjoyment of our guests.”
“You led me to believe this was always the case.”
“Yes,” replied Brinchley quickly. “Some villages resent it though – even though they struggle to deal with just one trader in a civilized way.”
Nabolek nodded slowly. “Obviously these criminals who attacked the Miernan citizen will be punished?”
“Punished? I suppose we… that is, yes, I suspect they will be,” said Brinchley falteringly.
“And their presence at this Festival would be counterproductive, wouldn’t you say?”
“Well, they may feel they have a certain claim to… er…. being here what with…” Nabolek’s eyes narrowed the tiniest amount as he lowered his cup from his mouth slowly. “I mean, you’re right, of course, Nabolek. They won’t be invited. Obviously. Foolish of me to even consider it.”
“Excellent,” said Nabolek, bring his cup up to his mouth again to take a sip. “Now, about my fee.”
“Ah, yes.” Brinchley stood up and walked to the shelf behind him, retrieving a velvet red box sitting among several others. He turned and placed it on the table for Nabolek to open and inspect. “Two hundred silvers, as agreed.”
“Councilman, I can’t help but wonder why a man like yourself is living out here in this remote forest when you could do very well in Miern.”
Brinchley carefully picked up the other steaming cup of coffee and lifted it to his nose. “Miern, you say?”
“Yes, my cousin is developing the City into quite an extraordinary place.”
“You are cousin to the Gerent?”
“You did not know this? Why else would I have been chosen to oversee your Festival?” He sighed and looked out the window. “You would be overwhelmed by Miern. There is nothing to compare.”
“I had not thought it would be possible to move there, and still afford the comforts I have here.”
“Comforts?” Nabolek laughed. “In Miern, you would have a mansion with servants catering for your every need.”
“And how exactly…“
“I tell you what, my friend, if this Festival is a success…” Nabolek paused. “And if I can count on your assistance while I am here, I will personally smooth the way for you.”
“It’s that important to you?”
“The Senators from Miern are friends of mine. Powerful friends who can make things happen. Not only are they here to provide feedback to the Gerent on whether to make the Aeril forest a barony under Allium, but they’re also here on my request, assessing if we should strengthen the relationship between Miern and the forest in other ways. If they are impressed, I will do well. And if I do well…” He tilted his head at Brinchley.
“Then we must make sure they are impressed.”
“I knew I could count on you.” Nabolek smiled and, picking a few grapes from the bowl on the table top, patted Brinchley on his shoulder as he left the room.
13. JAN
Jan inserted the last of the watervines and then stepped back to inspect his work. He nodded approvingly and stroked one of the dense brown sideburns that grew down to the jaw line of his chiseled, beardless face. The two young a
ssistants were grinning as they packed up the tools into a bag and cleared away the left over bits of wood. After two days of working solidly on it, the project was finally complete and with the last intricate piece in place, Three Ways now had its very own pool.
Jan had found a half-buried stump from a large oak that had died years ago and carved out the inside until it was about ten feet deep. Then he’d filled it with a layer of ironwood sap and left it to dry. After a full day baking in the mottled sun, it had hardened and become perfectly watertight.
Jan had thought everything out though, and with a flair of genius which justified the silver he was being paid, he had built a few holes into the pool into which watervines were slotted, and then crafted an outlet tube of sorts that let the overflow channel down the back of the guest quarters towards the farm fields behind. Fresh water was continually flowing into the pool keeping it clean and cool, and at the same time, it would benefit some lucky farmers.
Even as they stood there, the flow from the watervines slowly increased and the water level rose at the bottom of the pool and bobbled its way towards the top.
“That’s brilliant,” burbled the youngest assistant, but he was shushed by the other.
“That’s all right, Tunit,” replied Jan as he peered down into the pool and cast a critical eye on everything. “He’s right. We’ve done a pretty good job with this.”
It was pointless in his view, an unnecessary waste of water and effort. But he was also a craftsman and had found the task challenging. It was also the most interesting thing he’d been asked to do over the last few weeks. Mostly, Brinchley had him involved in arbitrary building and fixing chores, the same as he’d have done in Eirdale if he was still living there, although he was paid much more here. He was building up quite a nice sum of savings and was thinking about what he’d do with it when he was bored of working here. Perhaps move back to Eirdale and buy a decent plot of land or something. He wasn’t sure yet.
Fortunately, it looked as though there were only a few things left to do and he should be able to finish in time to get down to Eirdale for the Festival with a few days to spare.
With one last appraising look, he heaved the tool bag over his shoulder. It should have taken two men to even lift, but a lifetime of manual labor had endowed Jan with enormous strength. His swollen arms seemed to be carved from ironwood and his hands were broad and heavily callused.
“Come on, you two.” He jerked his head back at the two boys who were still admiring the pool. They set off towards the Three Ways commons and were met by sweeping pine arches adorned with jasmine, and there were sculptures littered around the commons, reminiscent of Brinchley’s office, for which Jan had a thorough distaste.
He looked up ahead and saw Brinchley himself, dressed in an absurd silk coat, engaged in a heated discussion with one of the other carpenters.
“- supposed to be finished! What have you been doing, Nerad? I specifically said the kitchens needed to be done by yesterday evening!”
“We hit some hurdles, Counc-”
“No excuses! If they’re not done by lunchtime, you can pack your bags. There’s no time for slip-ups right now, not with -” He stopped when he saw Jan standing off to one side. “Ferthen? What are you doing here? Why aren’t you working on the pool?”
“It’s done.”
“Complete? And it works?” Brinchley’s face lit up. “Excellent. The Foreman will be most pleased.” He rubbed his hands together in a way that made Jan’s hackles rise.
“What I’d say is to give it a week or so to harden completely so that we can be sure there aren’t any leaks, th-”
“A week?” said Brinchley. “I thought you said it works?”
“Well, it runs, but I h-“
“Then, I’m sure it’ll be just fine. No need to dally here, Ferthen. Why don’t you head straight on to the new blocks and get started on those new showers.”
“Right now?” Jan glanced back at his gang who were standing at a distance.
“It must be finished by lunchtime tomorrow,” urged Brinchley. “Think of the money I’m throwing at you.”
“If it’s all the same with you, Councilman, we’ve been working solid and are overdue a break and some food.”
Brinchley stared back at him, twiddling his goatee feverishly. “Fine, fine. But don’t be long. There’s plenty of time tonight and tomorrow morning to finish.” He turned to walk away and then glanced at Nerad who was standing idly, leaning on his long axe. “You have things to get on with, don’t you?” Nerad dipped his head as Brinchley lifted his coat up off the dirt and sauntered off.
Jan snorted in contempt. “Can you believe that man?”
“He’s the one with the coin, woodsmith. Just do what he says,” said the other man, lifting his axe up onto his shoulder.
“True,” replied Jan. “I suppose we better have a bite to eat and then get those showers done. Nothing wrong with the old ones, but they want new, fancy ones – and immediately, always immediately. You’d think the world was about to end.”
Nerad smiled briefly and made as if to move away.
Jan added, “At least there are only a few days of work left before we head down to the Festival. When you are leaving for Eirdale?”
Nerad looked down at the floor. “I think I’ll pass on Eirdale this year.”
“Pass on it?” Jan’s thick eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “The Festival? Are you serious?”
“A bit too far to go. I’d rather relax here, maybe spend some coin, gamble a bit. Who knows.” Nerad swung his axe onto his shoulder and walked off.
Jan glanced at Tunit who shrugged and tapped his forehead to indicate what he thought of Nerad.
. . . . . . .
Brinchley walked quickly along the edge of one of the new neighborhoods, eyeing the newly refurbished quarters. He had a good mind to move out of his family’s age-old cedar home when the Festival was over, and take up residence in one of these new, luxurious ones. He reached the entrance to Foreman Allium’s residence, a three-pronged cedar of enormous proportions, and knocked.
“Come in.”
Brinchley straightened his cloak around him and stepped inside.
Allium was an uncommonly tall, wiry man with a high, nasal voice. Unlike most foresters, the Three Ways’ Foreman had close-cropped hair and was clean-shaven, which served only to emphasize the large, hooked nose that dominated his face, and down which he tended to look at people. He was seated at a large table, poring over some parchment maps laid out in front of him.
He didn’t look up. “You have news.”
“Yes, Foreman,” said Brinchley, bowing slightly. “The pool is finished. The new market area is even now having the last few finishing touches made to it. The main performance arenas will be erected ahead of time, and the musicians and performers themselves are g-”
“Don’t talk to me about musicians, Brinchley. Just stick to the important matters.” He paused and glanced at a section of the map. “The new showers?”
“Ferthen was going to work on them this morning.“
The Foreman looked up slowly at Brinchley. “They are not finished?”
“Ah, no, not as yet. The pool took more time than exp-”
“Excuses, Brinchley? Is this too big a job for you? If you feel you are not able to handle the pressure of managing this Festival…”
“Of course not, Foreman. It will all be finished in time.”
“It better be. This Festival must stamp our mark on the Forest - and tie us firmly to Miern in the process, Brinchley.” Allium started unrolling another map and paused. “I take it you have dealt with the Eirdalers?”
“I just spoke to Nathyn Tovier this morning.”
“Problems?”
“He left with his tail between his legs. The trader incident couldn’t have come at a better time. It played perfectly into our hands, Foreman. If we play this right, by the time they work out what’s happened the Festival will be over and you can proceed
with your plan.”
“And what about our Miernan guest, Nabolek? Is he aware of the circumstances?”
“I’ve only filled him in on what he needs to know, Foreman. His interests lie in a successful Festival, and he understands this can only happen if it is held in Three Ways. He seems very reliable.”
The Foreman nodded slowly. “Good. He has important links to Miern - to the Gerent himself, I understand - so keep him happy. This Festival will be the key to establishing Three Ways as the capital of the Forest and impressing the senators. When they deliver their advice to the Gerent – and it had better be glowing, Brinchley – I see no reason why I won’t be granted the title of Baron. When that happens, I will need a good right-hand man to help bring the rest of the Aeril Forest under the new order.”
Brinchley opened his mouth to reply, but the Foreman had already lowered his head to the map and lifted one hand, loosely flicking it. “That will be all.”
. . . . . . .
“Um, good day. Could you possibly tell us where to find a Mr. Brinkley?”
Jan wiped his eyes and, holding the shower fitting in place, turned to see who it was. Standing at the doorway was a short middle-aged man with a small group of well-dressed people visible behind him on a wagon.
“It’s ‘Brinchley’, and I imagine you’ll find him on the commons,” he replied.
“Oh. Of course, the commons.” The man nodded blankly, looking around vaguely.
Behind him, an elderly lady with a massive pearl necklace bobbing underneath her double chin, said, “And where exactly is this commons, forester?”
Jan looked back up and rolled his eyes. He checked that the fitting wasn’t moving and then climbed down the ladder which Tunit was holding steady. “Right, if you look over there,” he said, pointing westwards towards the village chimes, “you’ll see some offices in the cedars. If you walk past those in a straight line from here, you’ll see the arches of the commons.”
Melforger (The Melforger Chronicles) Page 9