by Joseph Lallo
“Athione still stands, so I guess they were right.”
“Pardon, Lady, did you say something?”
She looked behind her. A guardsman stood there, unnoticed until now. The mountain had been left in its natural state this high, and its many crevices provided shadows enough to hide an army. Intentional? She doubted it, but the men would take advantage of any shelter from the wind.
“I was wondering if the citadel has changed at all over the years.”
“No, Lady. The Four are the same this day as they were on their first day. Lord Kevlarin built bigger grain stores though, and m’lord Keverin did it again about six years ago now. He doubled what we already had. They say we have enough food stored to hold us for three years if we’re careful.”
“He knew the Hasians were coming.”
The guardsmen nodded enthusiastically. “He’s a good lord—the best!”
She smiled and moved on.
Whether Keverin was a good lord was debatable. No it wasn’t, she admitted. It was her own dislike talking. Who was she to judge a good lord from a bad one? She’d only met two!
Now that she knew what to look for, she found more guardsmen spaced at regular intervals along the road, forming a chain for messages to the east battlement. It was probably a standard post, but with the western battlement destroyed, it seemed redundant to her. She would tell Marcus when she next saw him. He might have forgotten about them, and extra men on the barricade might be welcome.
She reached the east wall and moved along it until she stood over the gates. The gate towers brought memories of the battle surging back, but it was her nightmares that she wished to forget. It was just dumb luck that she’d killed enemies that day, and not her friends, as she did every night in her nightmares. She didn’t know how many she’d killed, and she didn’t want to, but the first man was the only one she didn’t feel guilty about. It had been self-defence.
She shaded her eyes and peered east between two merlons at the town. The crenels that allowed a man to shoot at an enemy, came no higher than her chest, but she still couldn’t see properly. The walls of the merlons were tapered toward each other to reduce the angle for enemy arrows. Standing at the point of a stone V restricted the view.
She moved to another crenel and then another, trying to see better. The town wasn’t that far away. She could walk the distance in under an hour, or a candlemark she should say—why couldn’t she remember that it was candlemarks here? It nestled in the valley at a point where the foothills flattened out. The fields of crops and grazing sheep surrounding it, lent it a peaceful and idyllic air. It didn’t have proper walls, but then, she’d been spoilt by Athione’s grandeur. What East Town did have, was a dry moat or ditch bordered on the inside by a waist high wall kept clear of buildings. The wall seemed more of a boundary marker than a true defensive position.
“Has anyone ever attacked from this side?” she asked the nearest guard.
“No lady.”
“No one would be stupid enough, I guess.”
He grinned. “You’d be surprised. When Kevlarin was our lord, we had trouble with Malcor.”
“Malcor is one of the Four isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“Well then, they can’t be brigands, can they?”
“Not now, lady, but years ago Lord Malcor tried to take Lord Padrig’s land… you do know that Lady Jessica is the daughter of the old Lord Padrig?
“She told me,” she said.
“He’s dead now of course. He was old even then. Kevlarin went to help him throw back the Malcorans, and won the battle when Lord Malcor died.”
“You mean Keverin’s father killed the old Lord Malcor?” she said, her mind suddenly full of new names and confusion.
The guardsman shook his head. “That’s what we told his son, but it was m’lord Keverin who really slew him. Kevlarin took the blame, and the new Lord Malcor challenged him to a duel for killing his pa. Kevlarin accepted and drained him on the spot!”
Two Lords of Malcor dead just like that? Deva was harsher than she’d thought. “What about brigands and East Town?”
“Lord Athlone—he’s Lord Malcor now—still holds a grudge. He raided the town and burned some farms. He’s always making trouble, but nothing as bad as that raid before or since.”
She couldn’t blame him for holding a grudge; not when his father and older brother both died at the hands of Keverin’s family. She would probably have felt the same.
Julia chose one of the gate towers at random, and descended from the wall. She surprised a group of guardsmen lounging inside, and grinned when she saw what they were doing. They were betting on a race between two spiders. They had a pair of scabbards lying parallel to each other on the floor to create a track, but neither spider seemed close to winning. Both were more interested in escape. When the men saw her, they scrambled to their feet, red-faced. They were shifting from foot to foot like schoolboys caught playing truant. She grinned, barely holding back a laugh.
“How’s the head, any headaches or dizzy spells?” she asked, recognising one of her patients.
“No, lady. When you fix something, it stays fixed,” Alvin said.
The other guardsmen nodded seriously, and murmured similar things, but she wasn’t so sure. It cost her nothing to ask about recurring problems when she saw a former patient, and it might cost a life if she didn’t. She’d learned some of magic’s limitations, but only through trial and error. Mathius had alluded to problems that hadn’t been solved through magic, but she didn’t know whether that was a matter of choice or necessity.
“Well, I thought I would ask just in case.”
“I’m fine now,” Alvin said with a slight bow.
All the guardsmen produced the little bow at the same time. It was as if they’d been tied together.
“You’ve been practising!”
Alvin nodded seriously. “Captain Marcus showed us how m’lord does it.”
She didn’t know whether to be angry or amused, but this Lady Julia business was getting out of hand! She looked at their earnest faces and couldn’t spoil it for them.
“You do it very well,” she said seriously, and hurried outside to escape the adoration in their eyes. She didn’t deserve it, not after failing so many of their friends.
The bronze-clad gates were locked, but the gatekeeper was nearby. She picked him out easily. Galen wore a guardsman’s armour, but his sash didn’t have a scabbard thrust through it, which meant he wasn’t a sentry. Athione’s gatekeepers didn’t need swords. There were plenty of men armed to the teeth and ready for mayhem.
“Open the gate for me, would you?” she said as she approached him.
Galen’s eyes widened at the sight of her. “M’lord Keverin said to keep her locked, lady. Did he say?”
“He didn’t say anything about the gates. I’m the one asking. I want to visit the town for a while.”
“I can’t open her up without his say.”
Keverin, Keverin, bloody Keverin!
She was sick of wandering around the fortress. She wanted out for a few hours! “Please listen,” she said as patiently as she could. “I know you have orders to follow, but if you don’t open it for me, I’ll do it with magic. I’ll try not to break anything, but I can’t be sure you’ll still have a gate when I’m done.”
“No need for that, lady!” he said hurriedly, obviously horrified at the thought of his gates damaged. “I’ll do it, but m’lord will be angry. If he asks...?”
“I’ll tell him that I threatened you. Is that all right?”
“Thank you! That’s really good of you, lady.”
He hurried into the tower containing the machinery used to open the massive gates. A moment later, she heard the locking bars withdraw, and the gears rumble to life. Alvin and his friends bundled out of the tower with determination writ large upon their faces.
She raised a hand to halt them. “No,” she said simply.
“But!” Alvin protested.
“You’re not coming,” she said firmly.
“What do we say?” Kedric whispered to his mates.
“The lord won’t like it, that’s certain,” the other man replied.
“I don’t care what Keverin likes or doesn’t like,” she said, interrupting them. “I’m not his prisoner or his lady. He can’t keep me here if I want to leave. Do you dispute me?”
“No lady!” Alvin said
“Never would I!” Kedric added.
“But he will,” the last man muttered, and paled when Julia glared at him.
“I’ll escort you, lady,” Alvin said, taking charge when the others faltered under that glare. He was made of sterner stuff.
“I don’t need an escort, Alvin, you know that.”
“You’re The Lady. You need an escort.”
The others mumbled their agreement.
“But I have magic. Why do I need an escort too?”
Alvin frowned. “Magic has nothing to do with it. Letting any noble lady go outside without an escort would be dishonourable, and besides, you’re our lord’s guest. It’s… it’s just wrong, that’s all.”
“The boy’s right.”
“Yup! Nothing wrong with his head.”
She groaned. She’d lost the argument already. Trying to separate a Devan from what he thought his honour demanded, would be futile. They were very strict about some things, and probably the most important of them was honourable conduct toward women. They could take it to absurd heights. Like having a separate women’s quarter in the citadel for example.
“All right,” she said with a sigh. “But why you, and not Kedric?” It was a petty revenge—trying to cut him out of the trip, but he deserved it for lumbering her with an unwanted escort.
“I thought you knew, lady. I was born in East Town. I thought you might like a tour.”
The others laughed and slapped him on the back for a well run campaign. She scowled at first, but she could see the funny side after a moment, and their good cheer infected even her. She laughed along with them.
“Come along then,” she said, and walked out the open gates.
* * *
27 ~ East Town
Julia held a glass figure up to the sun and stared mesmerised as the light shattered into blinding sparkles. The figurine was of a woman with arms raised as if about to fly away. Her hair streamed behind her, and her green cloak billowed as if in the wind. The cloak was the most amazing part. How had the artisan managed the colour? And what about the fragility of such thin glass? The woman could have been anyone. Her features were vague, with just a hint of femininity about her, but that enhanced the figure’s beauty; it drew the eye to the entire piece, rather than to one attribute.
“Do you like it?” Keef said, hoping for a sale.
“It’s amazing work,” she said.
He beamed, pride shining upon his face. It wasn’t arrogance on his part. It was the pride displayed by someone who knew the worth of what he offered. She liked the stocky merchant. He had an open and easy air about him. His clean-shaven face had deep laugh lines etched into it, shouting his good humour.
“How do they make the green?”
“That’s a secret, lady, but—”
“This is The Lady,” Alvin stressed.
She frowned at him.
“As I was about to say,” Keef said, glaring at Alvin. “It’s a secret, but I doubt you plan to enter the trade. The artisans make it the usual way with fine sand, sea shells, and ash from the very best wood, but what they do then is the secret.” Keef leaned forward and spoke like a conspirator. “You know the green stuff that appears when copper weathers?”
“I know what you mean.”
“They use that. I don’t know the how of it, but I know the what—if you follow me?” he said, and winked.
She nodded. Copper oxide tinted the glass green. “What about the black there?” she said, and pointed to a figure obviously meant to be a sorcerer.
“Powdered ochre.”
She carefully replaced the figurine near the centre of the table. She didn’t want to be responsible for breaking such a beautiful thing. She frowned as her thoughts darkened. When she left this world, would she only be known for the destruction she had caused?
“Thank you for showing me these, Keef. They’re all wonderful, but I can’t buy.”
“It’s my pleasure. Not many do buy these days. Times are hard everywhere.”
“How do you live then?”
“I have more money than I could ever hope to spend, but I enjoy the work. I’ll not give it up. How would my artisan friends sell their work without me?”
She smiled. If he wasn’t selling anything, how could he support his friends? “Who is the figure meant to be?”
“She’s the Lady of Dragons.”
The Lady of Dragons? That sounded like a legend, like Arthur and the round table. She turned to Alvin for an explanation.
“No one knows what she really looked like, so they’re always like this,” Alvin said. “The Lady of Dragons is an old story. It’s said that a daughter of a Founder ran away from a marriage she didn’t want. She threw herself from a high mountain somewhere, but a huge black Dragon saw her fall, and took her away. It’s said she rides him still, and will live forever where she’s happy as the Lady of Dragons.”
She smiled, and decided to check the library for a book about the dragon lady when they returned. She liked happy endings.
She bid Keef good day and they moved on. She enjoyed the anonymity that the crowded marketplace lent her. She’d never liked people bowing to her all the time, but it was unavoidable within the fortress. All the attention made her want to hide in her rooms, but browsing the stalls without all the fuss was fun. No one knew her here, though having Alvin dogging her heels raised a few eyebrows, they didn’t think any more about it. Guardsmen were a common sight.
She glanced at the next stall, but quickly moved on. She had no interest in belt knives and daggers. Some of the stalls were selling fruits and vegetables. Some of them were familiar to her, while others looked darn bizarre. Apples, or what she thought might be apples, were a bluish green in colour. There were no oranges at all, but the plums looked right. Grapes did as well, but the peaches weren’t peaches. They were Pella fruit and tasted like honey and pears in one. Janna sometimes made pies using them.
She stopped to examine a selection of hand mirrors. They were a little larger than the palm of her hand. “Is ten gold a lot of money?” she asked Alvin, noting the indignant look on the merchant woman’s face.
Alvin nodded. “I earn eighteen gold in a year. The Lord is very generous. Others pay their guardsmen ten gold or less in a year.”
Half a year’s wages for a hand mirror was incredible. She hadn’t thought to ask Keef the price of his figurines, but on this scale they must be worth a fortune!
“That makes no sense. No one could afford these,” she said, waving a hand at the mirrors and jewellery arrayed on the stall.
“If you haven’t the money, move on! I’m not a charity,” the merchant said, scowling now that she knew there was no chance of making a sale.
Julia raised an eyebrow in amusement, and the woman’s face darkened. She wouldn’t sell any of her wares. She could understand paying good money for quality, but there were limits. Mirrors were made with silver—at least she thought that was right. Silver would cost a like amount of silver to obtain, and the work involved would cost more, but surely the mirror was worth no more than a gold or two at most.
She walked away frowning in puzzlement. Supply and demand set prices. With no demand for expensive mirrors and figurines, prices should tumble but they hadn’t. The only thing that made sense to her was that there was a demand—just not here.
“Where would you go to sell Keef’s figures?”
Alvin chuckled. “You found him out. I knew you would. He has friends
all over Waipara. Those that live in Japura sell his glass to the rich princes there. The ones in Tanjung sell to the noble houses. No one goes through our pass to trade with the Protectorate anymore, but ships from Japura do go there.”
“Then why is he trying to sell them here?”
“He ain’t selling any, Lady. He’s telling the truth about that, but he likes working on the stall when he can. Says it reminds him of where he came from.” Alvin rolled his eyes at the notion. “He’s a rich man, like he said.”
She nodded. “What about the woman with the mirrors then, and what about the others?”
“Taxes are bad everywhere. Lord Keverin keeps them low in his towns and villages, but the king still demands four coppers in ten from his lords. The Lord pays the difference out of his own treasure, but that ain’t helping trade none.”
No, it wouldn’t. The people were prosperous here, but prices were inflated because of greedy merchants exporting their goods. Keverin’s people could not buy, which in turn meant that his coffers were dwindling. How long could he subsidise his people’s taxes? Certainly not forever.
She frowned as she thought about his options. A special tariff on certain exports should work. Trading outside of the kingdom would become less attractive to the merchants, and more of it would stay within the borders. The king would have to institute it though. Assuming he did the right thing, trade within the kingdom would resume, albeit at a lower level, but the merchants might pack up and leave. A tariff was no good on its own. The kingdom needed a tax cut to make the merchants want to stay. Prices would fall as external demand dropped, and then level off when people in Deva began buying again. Exports would be lower overall, but the people would be much better off. The traders would howl of course, but they would come around. For one thing, shipping costs would be removed. They would surely see that as an advantage.