"Easy there, boy," the smith's voice carried out the open doors. "You're keepin' the fire hot, not pushin' a ship from Platport to Chin'mai."
"I wonder if the boy wants a job at the smelter," Caedda whispered.
Aedelbert whispered back, "If he keeps overworking the bellows, he just might get one."
"No, magic cannot 'fix' overheated iron, boy! Joach, you take the bellows. Boy, go fetch more charcoal." A gangly apprentice hurried past the two men, shoulders ducked, head so low it almost dragged the ground.
"Smelter," Caedda mouthed.
Aedelbert filed the idea away. First they needed to pay for their tools, then sort out how to hide their gifts if something else magical happened. He still didn't know why the watch had asked for them, and he probably needed to learn.
"One hammer's not done yet." Master Alger wrinkled his nose. "Handle split. Someone passed black needle-leaf as eich. I sent the lot back and good are coming after mid-day." He snarled, "Passin' things for what they aren't—Rella and Radmar as my witnesses, nothing good ever comes of it."
Cold shot down Aedelbert's spine and his mouth dried like water splashes on black rock in midsummer. The smith meant nothing more than the wood. Didn't he?
13
Red War, Blue War
Another day passed before Wassa called a meeting of all miners, masons, and stone-workers present within the walls. They gathered in the miners' confraternity hall. He'd just called everyone to order when the side door banged open.
"The Emperor's two days from here. Message sent to Donwah's Daughter," a boy gasped, then raced on with the news.
Wassa glared after him. "So's the Aldread army, such as made it through the marsh."
"The old marsh or the new one?" a wag called from the back of the group of miners and masons.
"The wet one, ya smartass," Wassa retorted. "Seems Lord Heinrik himself found a large hole not far from the road, bout so deep," he held one hand just below his collar-bone. "At the end of the marsh."
"Oops." Caedda smirked. "Guess we should have fenced it off instead of leavin' steps and a ramp."
"Not yours," one of the miners corrected. "Brother of a farmer has a private clay pit for his pottery. Aldread don' listen to no man not a noble, it seems."
Wassa thumped his fist down on the table beside him, pulling the men's attention back where it belonged. "Be that as it may, the water slowed Aldread's men but not for as long as we wanted. Men with slingers have gone into the woods to harass him, but he's going to attack us. One of the beast mages says he has a battering-log to break down the gates, and machines to throw rocks."
"Throw rocks against a city dedicated to the Scavenger. That's brilliant," a voice from the middle of the group hissed.
"Well, his parents are also his cousins," someone hissed back.
Were they? That might explain a great deal, although not every noble married a first cousin. They weren't supposed to, no man was, but it didn't always stop the unwise.
"Our job is to make certain the lord doesn't have men digging under the wall. Two men to each cellar closest to the wall, listening. We'll also have men on the wall with water-bowls, looking for shivers." Wassa looked around the group, making eye contact here and there, "and those on the wall, no complainin' about the bad light making the water tremble."
"What about the wind?"
Nervous laughter followed that sally.
Wassa looked up at the ceiling, hands spread, imploring the Scavenger or anyone else for patience. "If you weren't so good with findin' ore veins, Wulfric, I'd marry you to my wife's cousin's daughter for that crack."
"Oh no, anything but that! I yield." Wulfric feigned dropping to his knees in surrender.
"The moat should keep Aldread from undercutting the walls. There's a reason it's so deep, besides needin' the dirt for the outer berm." Wassa folded his arms. "But this is Lord Heinrik Aldread we're talkin' about. If you see the water starting to tremble, and no good reason for it, send a messenger to Mistress Brithuida. She'll look and see if there's trouble." He held up a cautionary finger, "She can only look a few times a day, so be very, very certain you're not seeing footsteps, or wind, or a heavy wagon rolling close by."
"How much water did get out of the river?" Caedda asked the man beside him.
"Not so much as we wanted, but it went to the right places. Donwah's Daughter had some suggestions. She's not pleased that the farmers dug drainage-ways without looking to see if they were carrying foulness into the stream."
"So the river water's not from the mine?"
"It is. This is farther downstream." The miner shrugged, then gave a half-smile. "So the upstream farmers were soilin' the river for those downstream, which is again' th' law. They have use right only, and the water has to be as good comin' off their land as it is goin' in."
Caedda nodded. "Makes sense, like millers not keepin' all then flow, and lettin' it run when they're not grindin'."
Wassa repeated, "We have walls. We have gates. We have men watching the road to the mines and smelter, and some up at the smelter, in case Aldread thought he could send an army over the mountains the hard way."
One of the other miners standing in the back with Caedda and Aedelbert called, "Master Wassa, do the chervi need more crossbow bolts?"
Wassa folded his arms and glowered from under grey eyebrows. "If this is what happens when I let you out in the sunlight, I'm cancellin' Eighth Day from now on." He let his arms drop. "All the metal from the smelter has been sent to the Emperor, so there's nothing to be stolen from up there. The charcoalers and Turold have a few surprises ready, should anyone unwanted come to visit."
"Probably not fireballs," one of the back row whispered.
"Not Turold, no." The second man shuddered and made the horns. "My older brother was there. Said he's surprised Turold will even tolerate a horn-lantern after that."
"There's a list of who is where, and when, by the door. Those who can, read for those who can't. No, Maartin, you may not take up a spot in Master Warshon's wine cellar, so don't ask. Masters Aedelbert and Caedda, a word before you go."
What had they done, or not done? Or was it another work request? Not that, please. I'd rather work straight shifts in the mine before I work with the masons again. They waited for the others to stream or lumber out the door, then went to where Wassa stood beside a table.
He handed them a legal document. "Master Turold wants you to witness his adoption of one girl named Mildthryd, declared orphan by the temples. She is born for Gember and to Yoorst."
That explained a great deal about how easily the girl trained the great-hauler. Aedelbert took the document and held it so Caedda could read as well.
The Priests of the Scavenger and Priestesses of Gember, along with a priest of Yoorst, attested to the girl's birth patrons and that she had been declared an orphan without kin in the region. Turold Wigmundson agreed to support her as daughter with all duties and rights, and she agreed to his guardianship until she reached the age of majority and after, if she had not been pledged in marriage. Turold made no claims on any portion that might eventually come to her, reserving those as a dower-portion. Turold had signed it, and Miss Mildthryd had made her mark before a priest of Korvaal, who counter-signed her mark. Aedelbert was not surprised to see that she'd drawn a rather good likeness of a great-hauler's head with... "A bow?" Girls!
"Bonna. Makes perfect sense," Caedda chuckled. He took his ring from his belt pouch and showed it to Wassa. Aedelbert did likewise as he returned the document.
"This way." The three went into a little office where the miners' notary kept his things. The notary mage inspected the rings, skimmed over the adoption statement, and poured a little black ink onto a flat plate. Caedda dipped the top of his seal into the ink, then sealed the page beside his name. Aedelbert did likewise, and both signed. The notary lifted the page, held it flat and stared across the surface. Something flashed and a stab of pain shot between Aedelbert's eyes. Oh, that hurts. What bruised so ba
dly? Or did I overdo things that badly trying not to look into the stone? He hadn't truly used his gift for, he tried to recall. At least two eight-days and more before that night. Was it like a man's arm, it grew weaker the less he used it?
"That does ease some things up at the smelter," Caedda observed after they left the tiny office.
"Yes." He'd wondered how long the temple's protection would stand between Mildthryd, Turold, and rumors. Longer than he'd feared, and no one would challenge the adoption since Turold had renounced any financial benefit. Was her former sire's farm under water? If so, perhaps he might take it as a caution. Or not, depending on his nature. Some people did not deserve their children, and some children truly should not have been cursed with some parents. That boy from Platport...
The stone cutters returned to the lists of duties and did not see their names. "Well, we're not citizens, we're guests under contract."
Caedda looked as if he wanted to say something, but had changed his mind. Aedelbert would rather be up at the smelter site, working so they could finish and find more work. If Wassa had not coordinated things with Wilfrith to change their contract end date, Aedelbert would be having some words with the mine master. "Reminds me." Caedda began. "We need to get formal apprenticeship contracts signed by Wilfrith so there's no question about Ehric coming with us."
"Point." Someone always fussed about traveling apprentices, and having both the initial contract and a proof-of-labor contract on hand eased a lot of town-council fears. "Have you ever heard of someone leaving indigent children or young people on a town through false apprenticeship?"
Caedda thought about it as they went to the Golden Loaf. "No, but that doesn't mean that it didn't happen once, and get reported and exaggerated as the years passed."
"Speaking of exaggerated," Aedelbert murmured well under his breath, tipping his head a little to the side toward an over-dressed man talking to one of the young women who worked at the laundry. He wore bright red hose, a red jerkin, white shirt with red embroidery, and black boots and belt. His cap blinded all who passed by, so yellow was the color. Even Rella of the Lights probably shielded Her eyes from the shade. The woman leaned away, looking left and right as she tried to ease away without abandoning the delivery basket perched on the corner of the wall around the well. The fop rested one hand on the basket's handle. Some things never changed, approaching army or no.
"Hela, that's the exact shade," Caedda said in a loud voice. "Nasty stuff, too, not as bad as that unripe yellow rock from the stinking springs, but it will take off a man's skin if he's not careful. Hard to believe they make it from black vitriole."
"From black? And here I thought nothing worse came from the mine but blue vitriole." Aedelbert shook all over. "I don't doubt you, but it's a wonder we have any tanners still living, given the nasty things they work with."
"Aye. You wonder about someone who prefers aged piss and yellow spirit of vitriole to tanner bark and good clean water." The man with the yellow cap stared at them, taking his hand off the basket. The delivery woman grabbed up the basket and fled from the man, sounds of laughter beginning to escape from her.
Task accomplished, Caedda and Aedelbert went to the Golden Loaf and paid their weekly bill. Or, they intended too. As they neared the open door, a woman yelled, "I cry defamation! Get out, now, before it's my clog up your arse."
A skinny man in patched clothes backed out, holding a long, thin loaf of bread in front of him as if it were a shield. "And I say no good baker puts cat meat in their sausage rolls! You owe me damages."
"What did the honored Father say about some using their patron as an excuse?" Aedelbert asked aloud.
Caedda glared at the skinny man but held his peace. The beggar ducked and started to open his mouth, probably calling them to witness for him. Caedda scowled and both men showed the ends of their belt-knives, black wood engraved with a rat. The beggar ducked even lower and scuttled away.
"Can't be any cat in the sausage roll, because cat's not a meat. This all men know," Caedda intoned.
Should I run or just duck? Thanks be, Mistress Godgifu had her back to the door and was fussing at an apprentice. She'd not heard either of them.
The gates closed that night not to reopen until the Emperor himself arrived. The moment the call for cover-your-fires sounded, Aedelbert began wondering if he could climb the wall from inside without being seen, and flee. None of the stories he'd heard or read about armies and cities sounded pleasant. Even without someone trying to attack a city, cities closed against flood or other trouble quickly bred miasmas and other woes. And how long would they be able to eat? More importantly, how long would he and Caedda be able to eat without getting paid?
Thanks be to Gember that the mills and their large stocks of grain stood inside the walls. The millers had drawn in the last of the old grains and some of the early kinds, the winter wheat. Not many men grew winter wheat this far south, but a few did, and the millers had begun blending the old grain with the new. Aedelbert wondered too about sausage and other things, but surely the city would not be surrounded by water or armies for more than a few days. Surely? He kept thinking about the story his father's mother had told in winter, about the city east of the Five Free Cities that had been locked into its walls by ice and snow. When at last spring had crept in, the gates remained closed. A few brave men had found a way through a broken water-gate, and had opened the main gates. No one had survived the hunger, cold, and winter cough. His father's mother had sworn that the people never tried to go back into the city and left it as it stood, nothing but walls and bones. Granted, that had been in the time of the Great Cold, before the killing snows fully retreated to the north, but still...
The walls. Aedelbert needed to leave. No one had asked him about the night on the wall, yet. he sharpened and cleaned his tools, trying not to think about the wall, about the way the rock had felt, the heat flowing where he imagined it going. No. It had been the Scavenger's work. Had to have been the Scavenger. Aedelbert had just seen it, nothing more. If the gods could turn an ambassador to ash for lying and breaking god-oath, then the Scavenger certainly would protect His stones from misused magic. That had to be what Aedelbert and Caedda had seen.
Three nights after the gates of Garmouth closed, a commotion of raised voices and anger, along with a rush of people carrying torches, called the men from their apartment to the main market square. Aedelbert stayed back, tucked into a doorway and out of the flow of people hurrying to the square. He felt something in the back of his head, an itch or a weather burn, as when he was young and a great storm lurked just out of sight where Donwah's and Rella's lands touched. If a storm approached Garmouth, he hoped it would finish washing Lord Heinrik out of the city's hair.
Colar stood on the steps of the Council Hall, a taller shadow that might have been the Scavenger's Daughter beside him. Donwah's Daughter stood on the other side of her colleague, a most unhappy expression on her face. Had she been roused from sleep? Or did something trouble the waters? The leader of the Council raised his hands and the yelling became talking, then died away to soft mutters. "Yes, Lord Heinrik's messenger threw a scroll over the wall. No, not with magic, but with a sling-shot. Yes, we knew it was a messenger so the watch and guard did not shoot him."
"As much thread-of-gold as on the man's tabard, he couldn't be anything else," one of the watch added from behind Colar.
"Unless he wore the emperor's tablecloth," a wag yelled.
City people never showed proper respect for their betters, Aedelbert heard Count Richmund of Harnancourd sniffing in his memory. He'd been complaining loudly to a priestess about the lack of traders passing through the city, and how those few who did insisted on seeing a copy of the staple right for themselves. Aedelbert and Caedda had kept their heads down and their hands busy so the count wouldn't notice them working and interrupt. He'd been the type who thought that he knew a man's trade far better then did even the senior guild or confraternity master in the empire.
; "He commands us to open the gates, empty our storage buildings of grain, wine, beer, and other foodstuffs, and divert water from the moat back into the stream. We are also to stop the flow from the mines into the streams, and begin throwing down the stones on the top of the wall as a sign of our sincerity. All men of fighting age are to leave the city at once, so that Lord Heinrik may pass sentence for our disobedience and unconscionable disrespect for him and his family's sacrifices on our behalf."
"Which were last performed before Burnt Tree mine opened," Donwah's Daughter added, hands cupped around her mouth. "That is before this temple to the Lady of Waters was finished, four generations ago and more."
The itching grew worse, and Aedelbert couldn't stay still. He eased out of the doorway and scooted behind people until he found an alley that would take him to the smaller metals market. No one followed or noticed, and he rubbed the back of his head. It did not relieve the itch. He picked his way through the darkness, hoping that no one decided to empty an overfull nightsoil-pot or bladder as he passed.
Something trotted across the street in front of him. Something smaller scuttled after the first creature. A rat? He hoped so, so long as it did not climb into his work bag and chew his tools. Men were not meant to walk in a city after fire-cover hour. At least in the mines he could hear the sound of the walls. No man built curbs and stop-stones in mines, either.
A large man with a pole-lantern and sword stepped into the street after rattling a door, making certain that it remained locked. The night watchman turned, then stopped. "Who goes there?" he demanded, but quietly.
"Master Aedelbert Starken, a paid guest of the city, returning to my rooms," Aedelbert called back, equally quietly.
"Pass then," the watchman replied after peering at Aedelbert's face by the lantern light. He resumed his round after confirming that Aedelbert continued on his way down the street. At least, Aedelbert hoped that the watchman resumed his round. Explaining why he'd left the market... The itch moved from the back of his skull to the sides, growing in intensity.
Miners and Empire Page 18