by E. M. Foner
“They might if they want you badly enough,” Bryan said. “Besides, the last inn we passed had their prices posted on the hanging slate, and it was five coppers to share a bed.”
“Share?” Meghan couldn’t believe she had momentarily forgotten all of the stories about sharing beds with strangers on the road. Only the wealthy could afford rooms and beds to themselves. “Maybe you’re right.”
“That’s ten coppers for the two of us,” he continued, not noticing her discomfort with the concept of sleeping with strangers. “Ten coppers would buy five bowls of porridge, or two loaves of bread, or one roasted chicken. How many coppers are there in a silver again?”
“Ten in the small silver, twenty five in the big silver, though if you’re buying from one of the tradesmen in the castle, they usually weigh them to catch the shaved coins. Out in the countryside, people will just refuse a coin if it looks light.”
“All I’m saying is that inns are dangerous and a waste of money. It’s not even that cold out at night.”
“It will be by the next full moon,” Meghan told him. “Don’t forget we added an extra month at the spring equinox so it’s actually later in the season than Ninth.”
“What’s Ninth?”
“You don’t count the months of the year where you come from? How can the farmers know when to plant seeds or the soldiers know when to go to war?”
“We have names for the months, and our soldiers fight year-round. What kind of a dumb name for a month is Ninth?”
“It’s a smart name for the month after Eighth and before Tenth,” she retorted. “All I’m saying is that there was a double Fourth this year, so everything is later than it seems.”
“Hey, you stole my expression!”
“What?”
“All I’m saying. I’m the only person here who uses that.”
“Oh brother,” Meghan muttered. “You’re the weirdest cross between a grown man and a little boy I’ve ever met.”
“Anyway, if you have to add months, that means you’re using a lunar calendar, and it will still go off track whatever you do.”
“For your information, I studied calendars with Hadrixia and they all go off track. In addition to the extra months, we add a day every couple hundred years. It has to do with how fast the sun is going around the Earth.”
“What!” Bryan stared at the girl in disbelief. “You think that the sun goes around the Earth? Do you also think that if we walk far enough we can fall off the edge because the Earth is flat?”
“Who thinks the Earth is flat? That’s just stupid. But I can see with my own eyes that the sun goes around us every day.”
“I forgot you’ve never been to school,” Bryan said. “Earth spins on its axis as it goes around the sun. That’s where days come from.”
“So why doesn’t the moon spin when it goes around us?” she asked triumphantly. “You can always see the same face on it when it’s full.”
“Let’s get going,” Bryan said, suddenly tiring of the argument. If she wanted to believe that the sun went around the Earth, what difference did it make? “We agreed on not blowing any money sleeping at inns. Right?”
Chapter 18
An owl hooted its displeasure as the humans set up camp below the towering, old-growth trees. The diameter of the fallen red oak was higher than Meghan’s shoulders, and it shielded their tents effectively from the view of any passersby on the road. The forest floor was rich with fallen chestnuts, acorns, and hickory nuts, and the tenants of the hollowed-out red oak—chipmunks, mice, squirrels, and even the occasional baby raccoon—were viewed by the great horned owl as fast food.
“I can’t get over how big these trees are,” Bryan said for at least the third time since they had moved beyond the settled river valley area. “Haven’t you people ever heard of lumber companies?”
“The wood from just one of these trees would be enough to build a half a dozen houses,” Meghan told him. “Hadrixia once took me to watch the sawyers cutting up the trunk of an old tree that came down the river after a storm. It took them all week, and when they were done, there was enough wood to keep the carpenters busy building all winter.”
“We used to have forests like this on Dark Earth, but other than a few parks, they’ve long since been cut down. Even when the trees grow back, it’s not the same because the natural rhythm has changed.”
“There are barely enough people in New Land to occasionally clear a new field, much less cut down a whole forest. I don’t think our landmasses can be any different than those on Dark Earth just six thousand years after your world was exiled to its own place. If you recognize all of the trees and animals, you must have come from somewhere around here.”
“Maybe within a month’s walking on decent trails. Hey, that’s not what I meant to say. Is there some reason Hadrixia didn’t teach me units of measure? Every time I want to explain a distance, it comes out like I’m talking about taking a trip.”
“That is how we measure long distances,” Meghan replied. “Soldiers use marching or riding days, and I’ve heard that people who go to sea have a completely different system. When would you ever need to talk about distances without wanting to know how long it takes to get there?”
“Well, say I wanted to cut down one of these trees and float it to whatever castle controls the mouth of the river. I might ask you how far it is to the castle so I could divide that by the distance my tree can float in a day and figure how long it would take to get there.”
“But if we were people who cut down trees and floated them on rivers, we’d know that. You’d ask me how far it is to some castle and I’d tell you how many tree-floating days it is.”
“You mean that everybody in the different trades uses different measures to talk to each other?”
“Of course,” Meghan replied. “That’s part of learning a trade. Do you need to know how many fingers your waist is so you can order a dress?” She burst out laughing at the mental picture of Bryan in skirts.
“But how can you build anything to plans or make new parts for stuff if everybody in one castle measures boards in lengths of Uncle Joe’s forearm, and everybody—no, half the people in another castle measure boards in lengths of Aunt Sally’s leg?”
“Now you’re being silly on purpose. Why would people in one castle need to know how people in another castle measure boards?”
“It’s like, you’re pre-industrial,” Bryan exploded in frustration. “How about map making? How can you tell how far apart the land masses are if you don’t have a scale?”
“You mean like the distance between New Land and Old Land? Even with a mage onboard a ship to ensure a steady wind, there are too many variables to give the distance with any precision. A storm could come along and delay passage for days or even blow the ship entirely off course. And supposedly there are rivers in the oceans that affect the journey as well.”
“Currents,” Bryan supplied the better word. “But you’re proving my point exactly. If everybody knew that from point A on the coast of New Land to point B on the coast of Old Land was a hundred days walking—I hate this language.”
“Why would anybody want to know how long it takes to walk across an ocean?” Meghan asked, not understanding the source of Bryan’s frustration. “I suppose a mage with the right talents could do it, but it doesn’t seem like very useful information.”
“I give up,” Bryan said. “Do you have any of that pie left?”
Chapter 19
“I recognize those horsemen,” Meghan whispered. “They’re personal guards of our baron and they wouldn’t be here unless he sent them looking for me.”
“Why don’t I zap ’em.”
“Stop,” the girl hissed, pulling Bryan down again as he began to rise. They were hiding in a patch of tall grass not far from the road, a spot they had reached by running down the small stream they were crossing when Meghan’s magically enhanced hearing had told her horses were coming. Bryan had heard the horses before her, but he
hadn’t said anything.
“Is this your idea of a quest? Running from everybody who wants to stop you?”
“They’ve passed now.” Meghan sighed in relief and stood. “I recognized the men but I don’t know them. Maybe they have wives and children at home and they’re good husbands and fathers. Besides, men don’t have feathers to burn, and even if you could kill them, it’s not the right thing to do.”
“It is in every game I ever played,” Bryan retorted grumpily.
“This isn’t a game,” the girl responded, stamping her hiking boot in the grass. “How can you be so eager to kill when you’ve never been a soldier except in your dreams?”
The young man shrugged as the horses disappeared from view. “I don’t know. Just seems to be the logical thing to do. And I’ll tell you one thing for sure. If you keep grabbing me every time I want to fight, one of these days you’re going to get us both killed. From what you’ve told me, unlike my previous life on Dark Earth, there’s no second chance around here.”
“But we didn’t get killed, and we barely got our feet wet. Do you want to break for lunch?” she added, knowing that food was the most effective way of improving Bryan’s mood. She glanced over with a small smile, looking forward to seeing his face change at the suggestion of eating, but he was staring at something high in the sky.
“That hawk is eyeballing us,” Bryan stated flatly.
“Are you sure?” Meghan asked, all of her faculties coming to attention. “Near,” she muttered under her breath as she stared up at the circling black dot. “Nearer. I can’t make out the eyes. Maybe it’s hunting something else we can’t see.”
“It’s looking right at us,” Bryan insisted. “I could always tell when somebody was staring at me.”
“But it’s not a somebody, it’s a hawk. Unless—I should have thought of this. Can you kill it from here?”
“You want me to toast the bird?” Bryan asked in surprise. “I don’t know. It’s awfully high and my fireballs seem to fall apart with distance.”
“I can’t tell without being closer but I think it’s being controlled. It’s not the kind of magic our people use, but the natives of New Land have different abilities. Supposedly a shaman can occupy an animal with his spirit and see through its eyes. But why would a shaman be interested in us?”
“Gold for your bounty,” Bryan said. “Anyway, if he’s going to stay that high, the only way I’d get him with a fireball is if I made it big enough for everybody around to see.”
“Let’s not worry about it,” Meghan decided. “Maybe it’s just a regular hawk, and even if it is controlled by a shaman, maybe he’s just curious.”
Chapter 20
“What’s with that clown?” Bryan whispered as they entered a roadside inn.
He didn’t need to point out to Meghan the object of his query, who was dressed in a spectacularly tasteless suit of clothes. Each of the man’s limbs was encased in a different-colored fabric, and his vest was a patchwork of striped and polka-dotted scraps. Seemingly oblivious of the attention he was receiving from adults and children alike, the man looked perfectly at ease as he sat alone at the common table, devouring his dinner like a trencherman.
“He’s a harlequin,” Meghan replied excitedly. “If he’s not a member of Rowan’s players, he likely knows something about them. Let’s join him.”
“You’re not going to offer to pay for his meal, are you?” Bryan asked suspiciously.
“You seem to worry a great deal about how I spend my savings,” the girl retorted as she dragged him towards the common table. “Have you even spent a single copper of the money Hadrixia gave us?”
“That looks like prime rib he’s eating,” Bryan said, ignoring Meghan’s question. “You promised if I spent the afternoon practicing that new thing you’d buy me whatever I wanted for dinner.”
“That new thing I showed you is basic magical energy storage and it could save your life one day,” she whispered. “Now let me do the talking.”
Meghan put on her brightest smile and sat down at the table directly across from the harlequin, patting the spot on the bench next to her for Bryan. The stranger looked up, swallowed whatever was in his mouth, and opened the conversation.
“I see you’re not afraid of a little color, unlike our country friends.”
“Oh, no. I’m a great admirer of performers,” Meghan said. “My husband and I are on our way to join up with Rowan’s players, if he’ll have us.”
“Is that a fact?” The man looked skeptically at the young couple. “You don’t seem the theatrical types, if you don’t mind my saying.”
“We’re both new to the business, but we’re willing to work our way up from the bottom,” Meghan said.
“What have you been doing until now?” the harlequin inquired.
“We were both in food service,” Bryan said. “Speaking of service, how do I get what you’re having?”
“You could fight me for it,” the man suggested mildly. “I’ve already lost once today. If I hadn’t taken the precaution of hiding my last silver in my mouth when I heard the bandits coming, I might have been entertaining these good people for a scrap of bread, rather than dining on the Ploughman’s Special.”
“You were robbed?” Meghan asked. “Was it three men, one of them with a scar running from his eye to his mouth?”
“Friends of yours?”
“They thought so, but I convinced them otherwise,” Bryan interjected, drawing a sharp look from Meghan. “About that food…”
“I see you have limited experience as a traveler,” the man said. “My name is Laitz, and I’m on my way back to Rowan’s troupe myself, so perhaps we can travel together. As to your meal—Waitress!”
The harlequin didn’t seem to speak this last word any louder, but his voice cut through the noisy conversations in the tavern like a foghorn. A young woman whose hands testified to her spending the day in the fields before coming to work in the inn materialized at the table, and the background noise returned to its usual level.
“What’ll ya have?” she demanded.
“Ploughman’s Special,” Bryan replied immediately. “And a pitcher of beer.”
“Ploughman’s Special,” the waitress bellowed in the general direction of the kitchen. “And for the little lady?”
“I’ll have a half a chicken with a potato and whatever greens you’re serving,” Meghan replied, trying her best to sound like an experienced traveler.
“We’re outta chicken,” the waitress replied.
“Do you have any rabbit?”
“Outta rabbit.”
“Meat pie?”
“Outta pie.”
“What do you have?” Bryan interrupted.
“Ploughman’s Special. You’re late and it was a busy night. Got cheese if you want. Maybe some vegetable soup.”
“Another Ploughman’s Special,” Bryan ordered. He turned to Meghan. “I’ll finish it if you can’t.”
“Thank you,” she replied sarcastically, as the waitress bellowed the order and disappeared.
“It’s quite good, really,” Laitz said. “Worth every bit of eight coppers, though I anticipate some hungry days before catching up with Rowan.”
“So these guys took your purse but they left your clothes?” Bryan asked curiously. Now that he knew that food was on the way, he was happy to engage in conversation.
“The bandits took everything, including the clothes off my back, but the one who went through my bag pointed out that my professional suit would be difficult to sell and wasn’t anything he would be caught dead in. The other two agreed, and they seemed to derive a great deal of amusement from leaving it with me. I have to admit that it draws a very different reaction on the road than what I’m used to on the stage.”
“How long have you been with Rowan’s players?” Meghan asked.
“I traveled with them for almost five years, but six months ago, I made the mistake of taking a castle job as the duke’s jester when th
e troupe completed its engagement there. It seemed like a wise career move at the time, steady pay and limited travel. I soon discovered that Rowan was right and that you can’t entertain the same people seven days a week.”
“Why not?” Meghan asked.
“Material gets stale,” Laitz explained. “If you do two shows a day for a few days and then move on, nobody gets tired of your repertoire. Try staying the same place for a few weeks and they’ll be pelting you with rotten fruit. After a fortnight in the castle, I found myself making up jokes on the spot to try to get a laugh out of them. It wasn’t long before I made the mistake of doing an impersonation of some of the duke’s idiosyncrasies. That earned me three months in the dungeon.”
The waitress returned and placed a pitcher of beer and two leather cups on the table before moving on without a word.
“I’ve never seen Rowan’s players,” Bryan said, filling both cups from the pitcher. “What sort of performances do you do?”
“Our main event is always a play, either a comedy or a tragedy,” Laitz said, eyeing his own empty cup. “Depending on the setup, we often did small skits all around the castle during the day, in order to drum up interest. At festivals, we frequently performed battle reenactments, sometimes playing against a different troupe. Haven’t you ever thrown coppers on the stage for a well-acted death?”
“Whenever I got the chance. Is that the pay? Whatever coins people feel like throwing on the stage?”
“Rowan covers all of our basic road expenses, plus a fraction of the take, which depends on your role and seniority,” Laitz began to explain, but just then, the waitress returned bearing two Ploughman’s Specials, and Bryan stopped paying attention.
Chapter 21
“We make better progress in the dark because we don’t have to get off the road every time we hear horses,” Meghan explained to Laitz.
“Were you bitten by a horse as a child?” the harlequin inquired. “They don’t eat people, you know, unlike chasms one might wander into after dark. When we left the tavern I assumed we were just heading down the road a bit for some peace and quiet before choosing a campsite.”