by C. R. Daems
"My golden viper said so, and it never lies," Jola said as the viper's tongue touched Freira's hand. "See, that's its promise."
"Freira, it's time for your lessons," Olinda said, and then waited until Freira excused herself and left. "Mistress Jola, I'm speechless. Thank you for the experience, advice, and insights you've given my daughter. However, you almost scared her mother to death. If I had any doubts about sending my daughters to the monastery, you've relieved me of them. I'd be delighted if they turned out like you."
Jola's face burned. She was sure she was as bright as a red fruit.
"And thank you for leaving Edmundo to me. You can believe he'll pay for that subterfuge."
"I'm sure you are very capable of handling him," Jola said with a smile, as she and Tenzen rose to go.
As they entered the bailey where their mounts and packhorse were waiting, Captain Agnese approached.
"Mistresses, good morning. Her Grace has authorized me and my Horse unit to accompany you to Essam Province."
"That wouldn't be wise and might be a violation of the rules of the treaty," Tenzen said. "We are not to bring foreign troops with us except in cases of imminent danger to our lives. Besides, we'd like to enter Essam quietly, as we would on a normal circuit. Riding in with a unit of Rador's Horse would hardly be like a normal circuit. But thank the Duchess for the thought."
As they rode through the castle gate into the city, Jola waved to Freira, who stood on the castle steps.
"She's very fond of you," Tenzen said as she watched Jola.
"I like her very much." Jola frowned as she considered her pleasure in being with the girl. "Do judicators ever have children?"
"Some do. Nothing prevents us from marrying or having children. Actually, having children is easier than having a husband." Tenzen paused and Jola tilted her head as she assimilated what Tenzen was telling her. "Of course, by our rules, men can't reside at the monastery. If you want to marry, you must live somewhere else. If you continue on circuit, you seldom see your husband and child. If you give up the circuit, you must give up your viper and can no longer be a judicator."
"Well, I understand now why few judicators have children or get married. And, sex?" Jola asked with a wicked smile. She hadn't thought much about men while she was at the monastery. She had been happy to get away from the constant pressure to have sex while on the streets and in bondage. Now, however, she was free to choose who and when.
"You're a grown woman. Your viper will keep you infertile. You would need to stop him from feeding for at least three to six months before you could conceive," Tenzen said. Jola giggled-that had been left out of her education.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kasava Province
After three days, Jola and Tenzen neared the Rador-Kasava border. They rounded the crook in the road and saw the town of Lucien, a melange of structures-stone, wood, mud and tent cloth.
Jola shook her head in astonishment.
Tenzen shrugged. "It's a good place to rest before entering the desert of Kasava, or afterward, to recover from it."
They rode past stables with corrals filled with the desert horses, called Sangola, and stores piled with supplies and camping equipment. They passed guides hawking their services to escort travelers though the desert.
The inn was a cool adobe structure-a material strange to Jola. She spent time running her fingers over the walls, trying to figure out how you made a building of mud.
The next day she presided over a case involving the theft of some clothing and supplies. Otherwise, it was a restful two days of wandering the markets and talking with people. On the third day, Tenzen took her to tents occupied by the Kasava guides. A middle-aged man with dark brown skin and a lean sinewy build met them with deep bows. He wore all white-baggy pants, shirt, and a head wrap, which covered his neck as well.
"Good morn, Mistresses. How may this warrior help you?"
"We are traveling to Kusor, and wish to hire a Kasava guide," Tenzen said.
He bowed again. "Payment will not be necessary; another guide and I will lead when you are ready to leave."
"Can we leave tomorrow?"
"Yes, Mistress. It would be best to leave in the afternoon. We will travel most of the night, so it would be wise to rest well tonight. My name is Chima," the warrior said, and bowed slightly before returning to the Kasava tents.
"Why won't he take any money from you? Don't they get paid for guiding people through the desert?" Jola frowned after him. The whole exchange seemed strange.
"The Kasava people revere judicators. They treat us like elders of the Kasava people. It's a little unclear, even to the Kasavans, but apparently many generations ago judicators intervened to save the Kasavan people."
* * *
They rode out the next afternoon and reached the Kasava border just as the sun hovered over the horizon. Jola looked desperately around, seeking any sign of a road to speed their progress. The transition from lush prairie and cool breezes to endless sand and searing heat seemed immediate. The sky was clear under the scorching sun. The hot wind scoured the flat, open land, hurling burning yellow sand in her face.
Shortly afterward, the sun went down and the temperature plunged to freezing. True to his word, Chima, with his companion guide, pushed on through the night, stopping just before sunrise. They quickly set up two tents, and then prepared dinner-a tasty mixture of grains, fruit, flat bread, and strips of dried meat.
This routine went on for four days: sleep during the day, eat a light meal, travel at night, and then eat a heavier meal upon stopping at daybreak.
On the fourth morning, they reached the foothills of the Western Peaks, which provided their first shade, and cool stream runoff from the mountains. Jola had never been so glad to splash her face-sand-blasted after the desert travel-with cool water. They rested a day before continuing their journey south. For the next three days, they traveled in late afternoon, as the mountains provided them with shade.
After the exhausting eightday, Jola was thankful when Chima turned into the foothills and followed a wandering dirt road to the small village of Kusor. As in Lucien, they rode past stables of desert horses and supply shacks with piles of camping gear, as well as guides waiting for work. However, here there were also wagons piled high with glistening salt from the nearby mines, awaiting shipment to the rest of Pyxus.
Jola's mouth dropped open at the shouts of "Judicator! Judicator!" that went up from the people on the street. Soon, a welcoming crowd gathered around them. Jola found the exuberance hard to believe.
Their first night turned into a huge celebration. Two kids roasted on a spit in the center of the town. Children took turns rotating it, with serious attention to the job.
Later, as one of the guests of honor, Jola was seated under one of the awnings at the front of a hut. She picked up strips of the kid, wrapping them in pieces of flat bread from baskets.
Jola hid a jaw-cracking yawn behind her hand. She didn't want to insult their hosts, but she was exhausted. She forced her eyes to remain open as the men danced in huge circles, clapping and leaping, accompanied by strange stringed instruments and small drums. It went on and on. She leaned back and closed her eyes.
The nights of desert travel had exhausted her, and she felt herself drifting off despite her every intention of staying awake to watch the dancing. The people and the dances were fascinating. Yet her eyes closed, in spite of the heat, flies and the noise of the festivities.
Jola awoke to high-pitched, atonal chanting and a muffled drum beat. Her eyes flew wide open with shock at the vision of a huge, swaying snake. Then it twisted and evolved into a village woman in a mask, leading a line of dancers with their arms entwined.
The fog of sleep and firelight broken, Jola blinked up at Tenzen and blushed in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to go to sleep."
Tenzen smiled. "A nap is perfectly acceptable at these festivals."
She nodded at Chima as he handed her a goblet of golden desert wine.
/> "The chiefs would like an introduction, Mistresses," he said.
He brought the five clan chiefs forward, and they in turn brought their clan members forward to meet the judicators. Even their Sangolas, the desert horses, were present; they were ugly, but Jola couldn't help liking the easygoing beasts.
The next morning, after the end of the festivities, a delegation asked that one of the judicators sit in judgment of a dispute between two of the clan chiefs.
Tenzen agreed that Jola would hear the case. She used the delay to negotiate dagger training for Jola, who learned that the tribesmen of Kasava were the best dagger fighters in all of Pyxus.
* * *
Jola had to smile as she walked up several levels and sat on a large stone, which substituted for her judicator's chair. These seem like such practical people.
"In the name of King Nicolas, I, Judicator Jola, do hereby call this judgment in session." Jola spoke the ritual words, and then the words Tenzen had altered. "Clan Elders, speak the dispute."
"Clan Ryuu claims that Clan Apsu hasn't paid the agreed-upon total dowry price," an elder named Akello said in a quiet but carrying voice. Akello had to be very old. His brown skin was dry and wrinkled, though his movements still seemed lithe. From her discussions with him at the party, Jola knew he had a sharp mind.
"Clan Apsu claims they offered to pay the agreed upon-price, and wants the marriage to continue," an elder named Imamu said in a soft voice, which also carried to everyone. Imamu wasn't quite as old as Akello, and although he walked slowly, he looked slender and dangerous. Jola knew Imamu to be no one's fool. These were two canny traders, she realized, getting ready to do battle. Worse yet, she detected that both chiefs spoke the truth. Now what, she wondered. Tenzen had disappeared into the crowd-probably on purpose.
"Chief Akello, what was the agreed dowry price?" How could there be a disagreement over the amount offered and agreed to, and what was the price of a bride for a chief's son?
"Mistress Jola, we agreed upon three standard Sangolas," Akello said.
Jola now understood how there could be a disagreement-they were dealing in desert horses.
"Chief Imamu, what did you offer to pay Chief Akello?" She wasn't sure where she was going, but she had to determine the area of conflict.
"Mistress Jola, we offered one thousand silvers," Imamu said.
Now she knew the price of their desert horses and the price of a bride for a chief's son. The father and mother of Rosa, her friend at the monastery, had been sold into bondage for less than the price of one desert horse. She shook herself free of that thought. The past couldn't be changed and had no relevance here. They were arguing over the price of a Sangola. So, she needed to find a standard price they could agree on.
"Chief Akello, how much would you charge a Sattah trader for one of your Sangolas?" Jola knew the Kasavans considered everyone else unworthy; consequently, that should be the high end.
"Mistress Jola, five hundred silvers, maybe five hundred and fifty silvers," Akello said.
Now for the low end. She stifled a giggle.
"How much would you charge one of your clan relatives?" Jola held her mouth firm to avoid a twitch of her lips. Her viper spoiled it by poking its head out of the sleeve of her bodice, causing the crowd to break out in laughs and snickers.
"Mistress, three hundred, maybe three hundred and fifty silvers," Akello said with a frown, after a long pause.
"So, a standard Sangola would cost an unworthy foreigner as much as five hundred and fifty silvers, and a clan member as little as three hundred silvers." Jola looked at Akello, who nodded in agreement. Very interesting-almost double. She suddenly realized how to resolve the dispute. Their natural prejudice would help. "Would you marry your daughter to a Sattah noble for three times five hundred and fifty silvers?"
Akello's eyes widened. "No, Mistress." His voice rose in distress. "Sattah men are unworthy. I would not insult my daughter with an unworthy man for any price." The crowd laughed and cheered.
Got you, you crafty old man.
"Yet, don't you insult your daughter by valuing your Sangolas, for Chief Imamu, higher than you would for your own clan?"
"My daughter is a fine woman, and will make good wife."
"Is Chief Imamu's son unworthy of your daughter, that you insist on more?" Jola asked as she pressed her argument.
"No, Chief Imamu's son is a good man," Akello replied slowly. His mouth twitched a little, but he didn't seem quite ready to admit defeat.
"Won't her marriage strengthen the ties between Clan Ryuu and Clan Apsu?" Jola continued the line of questions designed to appeal to clan loyalty.
"Yes, Mistress," Akello muttered, barely loud enough to be discernible.
"Do you want Chief Imamu to look elsewhere for a wife for his son?" Jola knew that the clans, while competitive, had strong ties to each other. She noticed that the prospective bride and groom were vigorously shaking their heads in the negative. Akello glanced their way from the corner of his eye.
"The Apsu clan has offered you clan price, three hundred and thirty-three silvers per Sangola-somewhere between the price you would offer your most loved and your least loved relatives," Jola said, hoping she had made her argument, since she had run out of ideas.
"Mistress Jola, you are a difficult trader. You would have me selling my Sangola to you for one hundred silvers. I would go out of business," Akello said to general laughter. "I agree that the dowry price is acceptable."
"Let it be known to all citizens of Pyxus that Judicator Jola has resolved beyond any man's right to question the issue before her involving the marriage dowry between Chief Akello's daughter and Chief Imamu's son," Jola chanted. "I decree the sum of one thousand silvers is a just equivalent for three standard Sangolas.
"So say the Judicators of Pyxus."
Jola clambered down off the rock that had served as her seat of honor. She couldn't help her grin.
"That was well done," Tenzen said as they walked back to their tent. "The clansmen are natural traders, and it's bad form to appear to have been out-traded. You not only gave Akello a face-saving reason to give in, but one that was clever enough to be accepted as reasonable."
"Thank you. It certainly helped that we studied the people of each province at the monastery. It gave me enough insight to know that I merely had to find a reasonable excuse for Akello to capitulate," Jola said with a chuckle. "They're an interesting people."
"I'm glad you find them interesting, since tomorrow at first light, your dagger training starts. You'll find their fighters deadly," Tenzen said, followed by a jokingly evil laugh.
"I can't get over these folks. On the road, they're so reserved, and they barely speak. Yet in the village, they're a fun-loving people."
"They're isolated and little understood. I've always enjoyed their company, and my trips to Kasava-maybe because there's so little crime," Tenzen replied. "I suspect most of the cases we hear will involve trades."
They spent an eightday in the Kusor village. Jola heard several more cases, and tried to learn the Kasavans' favorite game, Stones-but barely managed to learn the basics. A few times, she managed to win against the nine- and ten-year-olds.
She trained for several hours in the morning and several in the early evening with various Kusor warriors. Each town in Kasava maintained a portion of the Kasavan army. Frequently the warriors were used as guards for caravans and for emergency search and rescue patrols, searching for lost or stranded groups that tried unsuccessfully to cross the desert without Kasava guides. Jola had thought she was a reasonably good fighter with a dagger after working with Tenzen's brother-until her first match with a Kasavan warrior. He'd flipped the dagger from her hand with contemptuous ease. By the end of the eightday, she could at least manage to hang onto her dagger and get an occasional hit.
Several things had become obvious to Jola. The monastery's defensive-arts training was inadequate against a twenty stone sergeant, an experienced swordsman or a Kasava warrior
. Sister Tenzen understood its limitations and had planned for her additional instruction.
Jola looked over her shoulder as she reluctantly rode away from the village. The people were pleasant and easy to get along with, they loved to laugh and play games, and they sure knew how to throw a good party.
* * *
Essam Province
On the narrow road to Etzel, the capital of Essam, they met few other travelers. The villages they passed through were tiny and isolated. None had an inn, so Jola and Tenzen slept in their tents each night. This country past the desert was lush, with heavy trees and flowering bushes. At night after they finished their short sword practice, Jola relished the stories Tenzen told about her days as a judicator and the people she had met.
Seabirds winged over the trees as they neared the peak of the hill. Jola felt almost sad when the city came into view as they topped the rise. As they neared the city, the sound of human activity-the creak and splash of boats, hammering, and the sound of voices-carried to them on the strengthening sea breeze. When they entered the city gates, they discovered that there had been no advance warning of their arrival.
"Mistresses, welcome to Etzel," a young sergeant said in a cheerful voice. "If you wouldn't mind waiting, I'll get you an escort."
"Thank you, Sergeant," Tenzen said.
Jola followed Tenzen off to the side, so as not to block the stream of people waiting to enter the city. A few minutes later, a captain and two troopers appeared.
"Mistresses, I'm Captain Hasadi. I'll escort you to a good inn, The Whaler, or to the castle, whichever you'd prefer. I'm sure that Duke Serkan would welcome you at the castle."
"Thank you, Captain. We would like to see His Grace, if he's not busy," Tenzen said as they started into the city.
The city of Etzel appeared to be more of a fishing center and seaport than did Stag Bluff, although they were both on the coast. Stag Bluff's steep foothills and treacherous currents precluded a fishing port, whereas most of Etzel was at sea level. Fishing boats and seagoing vessels were tied to jetties of gray stone. Only the castle perched on higher ground. As they approached the castle's wall, Jola picked out the Essam flags, each with a red, fanged hound on a black background, flapping in the afternoon breeze on the castle's turrets and over the entrance. The castle was a spectacular structure, with hundred-foot towers, arched doors, gold domes, and thousands of runes that adorned every wall. The captain turned them over to the castle's steward, who led them past hundreds of pillars lining the arched hallways. Beautiful rugs and vases were everywhere. Even the floors they walked on were exquisite, with complex patterns of arches and scrolls, and scenes fashioned from small, colorful glass chips. The steward bowed them into their suite, saying that the duke would see them at dinner.