"Your mouth is open," Gar informed his friend.
"What ... ? Oh! Yeah!" Dirk turned away, reddening. "Sorry. Just kind of strange to hear `dear' and `my love' after what we've been seeing."
Only two groups of men sat at table; Gar and Dirk had a wide choice-so why did they choose the corner farthest from the door? True, they were by a window-but why did they sit with their backs to the corner, instead of facing the panes? Even more mystifying, they went on with their talk as they sat, not even seeming to think about what they did. Strange indeed!
The landlord came up with a tray, three bowls on it. "Your ale, gentlemen. I'm sorry it's an old brewing, but the reeve hasn't sent me my ration of barley and hops yet. It was a bad harvest last year, of course, but his clerk says it will come any day now. As to your food, my wife will have-"
"Your meat, guardsmen! One side, husband!"
The innkeeper stepped aside quickly, then took the plates from his wife's tray and set them before the men. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek as he turned away, hurrying back to the door, where two more men were just coming in.
Dirk stared, stunned, and Gar said, "You seem fortunate in your marriage, goodwoman."
"Aye, sir." The landlady, pretty even in her mid-forties and her plumpness, blushed a little. "He has been a good husband to me these twenty-seven years, thanks to kind fortune."
"Or to a good match. You seem to have been as good to him, and as loving."
"How could I be less, with so gentle and affectionate a man?" she said, keeping her voice low and her gaze downcast. "I haven't seen very many couples as happy as you two," Dirk said. "In fact, none."
"It's so strange." The woman shook her head. "We seem to be such ordinary people, but when I hear what other folk have to bear, I realize we're rare indeed.". "How did you do it?" Gar asked.
The wife shrugged. "We've done our best to be kind to one another, sir, but that hasn't been very hard. I was lucky enough to fall in love with the man the reeve chose for me, and luckier still that he fell in love with me."
"Maybe the reeve knew you well enough to choose wisely," Dirk suggested.
"No, it couldn't have been that. We hadn't met the reeve very often, only the usual ceremonies, when each of us had to stand before him at seven and again at fourteen, that he might witness we were well and thriving, and his clerk register that we had passed from infant to child and again from child to ` adult. And the man who appointed us to wed one another was the fourth reeve we'd known."
Dirk shivered. Miles wondered why-surely the custom couldn't be strange to him. After all, it was the law.
"But the reeve knows all about everyone in his county," the landlady went on, "and chose us wisely, by our good fortune. You did want bread with your meat, did you not?"
"Of course," Gar said politely, and took the dark brown loaf she held out. "Thank you, goodwoman."
"Oh, I love to watch folk enjoy the food I've cooked, sir! Call if you need anything else!" She turned and swept back to the kitchen.
"Two very lucky people," Gar said, watching her go.
"And you think it's sheer luck, huh?" Dirk asked, watching his face. "Of course, it could be keen insight into character and good record-keeping."
"Then why're so many of them so miserable with each other?" Gar turned back to the table and shrugged. "The net of probability occasionally scoops up a treasure. If a few marriages are absolutely deplorable, the bell curve balances them with another few that are heavenly."
"But most of them are varying degrees of the mixture of good and bad? Yes, I think so." Dirk shrugged. "Just hope I draw one that's closer to the happy end than the miserable one." His face darkened. "Come to think of it, I won't get married if it's not."
"And you're the one who said we can only guess!" Gar said, with a hard smile.
Dirk shrugged. "If you're both head over heels in love, you're starting with all the advantages you can have-if both people are being as honest about themselves as they can be."
"Even then, it's a gamble." Gar warned.
"I know, but at least you're playing with better odds. No, I won't settle for anything less than head over heels."
Listening wide-eared, Miles thought privately that Dirk . would never marry, then-but he was scandalized that the man seemed to think he had a choice. Had he fallen in with a couple of madmen?
"So their happy marriage is just good fortune," Gar summarized.
"No, it took a lot of effort, too," Dirk corrected. "You heard her-they both tried as hard as they could to be kind to one another."
"They're good people," Miles murmured, frightened at himself for intruding.
Dirk nodded. "Yes. That helps. Still, I'd have to say it was mostly luck-or Providence."
Gar frowned, his gaze suddenly keen. "Come to think of it, they didn't mention Providence, did they? Or the saints, or God."
Miles wondered what the unfamiliar words meant.
"No," Dirk said slowly, "and now that you mention it, even here on the ground we definitely haven't seen anything resembling a church." He turned to Miles. "Have we?"
Miles stared, completely at a loss. "What"s a church?"
CHAPTER 7
"That's what I thought." Dirk waved to the innkeeper. The man looked up over a double fistful of tankards to give Dirk a quick nod, then turned away to another table, distributed bumpers of ale, and came back to Dirk, wiping his hands on his apron again. "Your pleasure, guardsmen?"
"Our hearts are in need of uplifting, mine host," Dirk said. "When and where can we find services?"
The innkeeper looked surprised, but said, "Ah, you're in luck, sir! The magistrate will lead the philosophy discussion tomorrow night! He'll remind everyone of the basic ideas of their duties to the State, and its to them, for half an hour, then go on to more advanced ideas for those who want to stay."
"Bad fortune!" Gar said. "I would very much like to hear that-but we'll be on our way before nightfall, or surely tomorrow morning."
Miles devoutly hoped they'd be out of town long before then.
"That's the trouble with being assigned to travel," Dirk agreed. "It keeps us from attending discussions as frequently as we'd like."
"Indeed," Gar agreed. "Why, we haven't been to a single session since that one a month ago." He turned to Dirk. "The one about the falseness of religion, wasn't it? I wanted to learn more."
The innkeeper looked interested. "What does `religion' mean? We've never heard of it at our services."
"The magistrate didn't quite make it clear," Gar admitted. "No wonder you wanted to hear more! It's a refreshing change from hearing the same ideas again and again every few years. One grows hungry to learn more-but I know we have to be constantly reminded of the need for government and the logical reasons why a people need a Protector to shield them from the worst excesses of human nature."
"Yes," Gar agreed, "and the need for that Protector to have weapons to use against the wicked, so he can prevent them from hurting the good folk."
"As you guardsmen do," the innkeeper agreed, "but that's why we common folk mustn't have swords or pikes ourselves, for the wicked mustn't be able to win against the Protector of the good folk."
"So that the number of the wicked will always grow smaller," Dirk said, "which is why people need to strive for good and righteous behavior."
"I see the services aren't just boring talk, to you," the innkeeper said with a tone of respect. "I must confess, guardsmen, that I was surprised that you actually wanted to attend services-but I'm impressed, though, with your desire to learn. You must be born to magistrates' lives, or better."
"Why, thank you," Dirk said with a smile, "though you're no slouch yourself, when it comes to an interest in learning."
"My love!" his wife cried across the room, exasperated. "Are you talking philosophy again? We have customers!"
"At once, my dear!" the innkeeper called. Then to Gar, Dirk, and Miles, "If you'll excuse me, guardsmen.. ."
"Of course! Do
n't let us keep you from your business."
The innkeeper bustled off, and Gar turned back to them with a very thoughtful look. "So magistrates preach political ideas, rather than having ministers preach morality. The Religion of the State, you might call it."
"Not too far from a state religion," Dirk said with a sarcastic smile. "Probably mixed in with. some real philosophy to keep people from plunging into despair."
"But `the State' means `the Protector' in practical terms," Gar pointed out, "so in effect, the Protector has no rival for the people's loyalty."
"Of course-he couldn't stand the competition." Dirk turned to frown at Miles. "You can go if you want to-you're not a slave, at least not to us. But we're not really as crazy as we sound."
"I-I didn't think you were." Miles was plastered back in his chair, sweat beading his forehead. "But I beg you, sirs, speak softly! If the bailiff or one of his watchmen were to hear you, we'd be clapped in irons and thrown in the gaol in a moment!"
"We'll try to keep it down," Dirk promised.
The innkeeper hurried back. "My common room is nearly filled, guardsmen. Would you mind if a few others shared your table?"
"No, not at all," Dirk said quickly.
Miles tried to shrink into the wood of the chair.
Four peasants in work-stained clothes sat down between Gar and Dirk on the one side, and to Miles's left and right on the other. They eyed Dirk and Gar warily as they sat, giving the impression that they would rather be at any other table in the inn-but this was the last one left with any room. "Good day, guardsmen!" one cried, trying to be cheerful. "What news?"
"Nothing worth noticing," Gar grunted. "The Protector still takes half your crops, tells you who to marry, and won't let you have a sword to defend yourself. What could be good?"
The peasants stared at him in alarm. So did Miles-but Dirk glared at him in warning.
"Why, the magistrates tell us when to rise, when to sleep, and when to eat!" Gar grumbled.
The peasants began to edge away from him.
"I've been lucky enough to escape three shrews," Gar boasted, "because the Protector transferred me from reeve to reeve just in time. A man needs a woman, though! All right, I'm glad it wasn't the wrong woman-but couldn't the reeves hurry up and find me the right one? Have they no insight, no caring?"
Miles felt as though he had melted and was sliding out of his chair-or at least wished he were.
"It will be a hot afternoon, I think, Corin!" one peasant said, very loudly.
"Educated, do they call themselves?" Gar growled.
"Aye, Merkin, but I see clouds piling up in the west," Corin called back. "I dare hope for rain by nightfall!"
"They know less about people than a plowman!" Gar snapped.
"Rain tonight would be good indeed," Corin projected. "The crops need it-and so do I!"
Dirk tried to lean around the man between himself and Gar. "Oh, am I in your way?" the man said brightly. "Excuse me-I'll find another seat!"
"And I!"
"And I!"
"And I!" That quickly, they were alone.
"I don't think the bait drew any hawks," Dirk said, thin-lipped. "Master Gar," Miles gasped, "if you wanted the table to yourself, why didn't you just say so?"
"That's not what he wanted," Dirk said, standing, "but I think we'd better leave the table to them. " He headed for the door. Gar, looking disgusted, thrust himself to his feet and followed. So did Miles, with frightened glances to left and right. Maybe he should find other road companions....
"Charge it to the magistrate," Dirk told the innkeeper, and the man nodded, not quite able to hide his relief at seeing them walk out the door.
As they came out, Miles breathed a long, shaky sigh of relief. "I had thought we were dead men-or at least ones clapped in irons!"
"Listen to the man on the scene," Dirk advised Gar. "I know we need a place to spend the night, but the jail isn't it."
Even on the .verge of panic, Miles noticed that Dirk had a strange way of saying "gaol." He made it all one sound, "jail," instead of two, the way Miles said it: "jay-yul."
"All right, so it was a good idea that didn't work," Gar growled. "Maybe nobody else is willing to admit their discontent that openly-but if we could stay the night, I'll bet one or two would come up and ask me if I was angry enough to do anything about my complaints."
Miles began to tremble. Dirk noticed and asked, "Do you think anyone would ask that, Miles?"
"No, sir," Miles said fervently. "They're too much afraid of the Protector's punishments, and too fond of life. Besides, they'd fear you might be a Protector's spy, trying to tempt them into treason!"
"An agent provocateur?" Gar nodded heavily. "I shouldn't be surprised that they use them." He turned toward the courthouse.
Miles gasped and hung back. "You can't think of going in there! Not after what you've been saying!"
"Why not?" Gar countered. "They probably haven't heard, and even if they have, I'll just tell them I'm one of the Protector's spies you were worried about. Come along, Miles-we have to have our travel permits approved, don't we?"
As they rode out of town an hour later, Gar nodded with satisfaction. "Sometimes a man who insists everything be done by the book can be useful."
"I never dreamed he would insist on giving us proper permits!" Miles was still dazed.
"At least he gave us the originals back," Dirk said, "so we can safely burn them. We shouldn't have any trouble with guardsmen trying to stop us now."
"It can be useful, the bureaucracy of a police state," Gar admitted.
"Police state?" Dirk looked up, interested. "You think it's that bad, huh?"
Gar shrugged. "There's a very elaborate apparatus to catch fugitives, and the punishments for breaking the law, or even disobeying authority, are quick, severe, and public, to serve as a warning to would-be lawbreakers. Certainly that constitutes a police state. Besides, can you doubt it, after the way those peasants reacted to my complaining?"
"No, not really," Dirk sighed. "So we're dealing with a dictatorship, a police state headed by a Protector commanding a legion of reeves, who in their own turn command magistrates, who give orders to bailiffs, who boss a small army of foresters and watchmen. In addition, the Protector has his own personal army, and the reeves each have their own troop of guards. I haven't counted, but I suspect that, if you mobilized all those policemen and soldiers, you'd have a total army that would be overwhelming."
"Certainly enough to overwhelm any rebellions that might crop up," Gar said, "not that they'd get the chance, with secret police everywhere. On the positive side, though, the Protector's job isn't hereditary. None of the official positions are."
"No, but they might as well be. Sure, the system is supposed to be open to anybody who's smart and able-but in practice, the children of the officials are the only ones able to pass the exams. No free public schools, so most people can't afford to read and write, which incidentally makes them easier for the Protector to control. The few who do manage to scrape together the money to go to school, mysteriously fail the exams."
"It could be that their educations aren't as good as the teaching the officials' sons get," Gar pointed out. "Yes--'sons.' " Dirk's mouth twisted wryly. "So you've noticed there aren't any female officials, huh? And yes, it could be that the sons of magistrates get superior educations, because the Protector provides it-but it could also be that all the officials in a district learn who each other are, and who their children are, in spite of that five-year rotation. They'd feel it's their duty to the last man who held the post to take care of his children, so they'd learn who all the officials' children are in their district-and when it came time for the exams, they'd make sure they didn't pass anyone else's son."
Miles managed to pull himself up from the depths of horror long enough to say, "There are a few farmers' sons who do pass the examinations-always a few."
"Yes, the ones who are so brilliant that the officials would be taking too much of a cha
nce to let them slip through the net," Gar agreed. "There are those inspector-generals roving about in secret, after all. An examination board wouldn't want one to talk to a few townsfolk, then examine their records and find indisputable evidence of corruption."
"Right-it has to be disputable," Dirk agreed. "So okay, no son inherits his father's position-but he does get into the ranks of the officials, and proceeds to rise."
"Many don't ever become reeves," Miles objected.
"Sure. If your father never got beyond magistrate, he can't pull strings to have you promoted. The only sons who would get promoted to reeve, are the ones whose fathers made it to the top rank."
"So the Protectorship really is won by merit," Gar inferred, "at least the merit of backroom -politicking and influence-peddling."
"Yeah, that does prove some ability at manipulating people, and that's a large part of running a police state," Dirk agreed. He shook his head in wonder. "How do you suppose these people ever dreamed up such a system?"
"I don't," Gar said. "I suspect the first Protector inherited a civil service from the colonial days. Bureaucracies are like living creatures, after all-they fight to survive no matter what happens. When Terra cut off the outer colony planets, and they couldn't get high-tech equipment or outside funding anymore, the bureaucracy found it was in danger of becoming extinct, since it no longer had Terra's laws and proclamations to enforce."
"So it developed its own boss," Dirk concluded, and nodded bitterly. "Yeah, that makes sense. A period of chaos, with the civil service desperately trying to maintain order in a sudden, drastic depression, skilled people having to become farmers, and reinventing the horse-drawn plow because the machines ran out of fuel-sure, a strong man would rise and conquer town after town until the rest realized they'd better join him voluntarily. Then he'd march into the capitol, and the bureaucrats would shout for joy because somebody had come to give them orders to carry out, and keep their jobs going."
"And everyone was so happy to have the chaos over with that they welcomed any government, no matter how severe," Gar said. "But give the system its due-it does provide a very orderly society, and no one seems to starve."
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