“But they’ll figure something out,” Woody said. “And when they do, we need to be ready.”
“I have some ideas there,” Vinnie said, stepping over into the conversation at just the right point. He had been busy unloading the wagon and counting the haul.
“We’ve also been taking the log books,” the big man said. “I’ve been copying them with the help of the village scribes.”
“Why would you do that?” Woody asked.
“Because I asked him to,” Astrid said.
“I don’t get it,” Woody said. “Seems like a lot of effort.”
“You, of all people should get it—what, with your fine legal mind and all,” Astrid replied.
Woody cocked his head, then his eyes went wide. “You’re building a case.”
“Exactly,” Astrid said.
“So what? The Commissioners aren’t going to listen to any case any bandit tries to bring,” Sally said.
“Maybe not,” Astrid replied. “But the village Elders will. Because we saved Blue Creek, village Elders are willing to speak up.”
“We’re building political support,” Vinnie said. “It’s going to be much harder for the Commissioners to argue against their own system when we compare what the Assessors take to the legal code.”
“Fucking brilliant,” Woody said. “Using their own laws against them.”
“No,” Astrid said. “We’re just following the law as it was written. Jank and the others are the ones using it against their own citizens.”
After a brief talk, it was decided that Astrid would go back to check on Argan, spend the night, then head back to the secret bandit camp early in the morning.
17
Argan Village
Astrid rode along the back paths back to Argan village with what everyone began to refer to as “The Core.” They were the original crew forming the nexus of a growing movement. She rode point with Moxy while Gormer and Tarkon rode behind them with Vinnie trailing behind on his draft horse.
They were all armed with crossbows taken from raids, except Astrid, who still preferred her rope weapon. The blacksmith and his children did an excellent job making the egg-shaped metal darts. She hadn’t used the weapon in combat yet, but she had been practicing for days.
They came out of a small branch trail that met up with the broader road that lead up to Argan. There they found a party of bandits heading their way with prisoners in tow.
Astrid was shocked to discover that the prisoners were a family, including a man, a woman, and a young boy and girl. The adults were bound at the wrists, while the children clung to their mother’s skirts. Astrid was even more shocked when it dawned on her who the man was.
“Assessor Pleth,” Astrid breathed out in amazement.
“Just who we wanted to see,” the bandit in charge of the small party said. His name was Harvey. Astrid had worked with him before. His companions were Dooley and Janet. “We found these unfortunates wandering up the Toll Road.”
“You took them from the main road?” Gormer asked. “General orders are to observe only.”
“Yeah, well,” Harvey said. “I saw this shit bucket and thought he was worth going against orders for. I wanted to see if Astrid here has some questions for him before we… ” Harvey gave a sinister smile and drew his thumb across his throat.
“Please!” Pleth begged, rushing up to Astrid. “I know what’s going to happen to me. I accept that. But please, I know you are a decent woman. I beg you not to do that in front of my family,” Pleth gushed. “Don’t let them hurt my children. Promise me you’ll look after them. I know you… I know—”
“Slow down there, Assessor,” Astrid said, getting off her horse. “Nobody’s going to harm your children.”
“Yeah,” Harvey spat. “We don’t harm children. Not like you, who takes food away from towns until they starve. Maybe Argan will take your family in after you’re gone. Or they can come live in the woods with us bandits. Your kids look like they’d make great thieves.”
Astrid held up her hand to Harvey and scowled. Harvey shut up. “Why were you on the Toll Road with your family, Pleth?” Astrid asked.
Pleth hung his head. “I was dispossessed for lying to the Commissioner. Do you think Argan will take my family in when I’m gone?”
Astrid smiled and put her hand on Pleth’s shoulder. “Nobody is going to kill you,” she said. “Even though it could be very satisfying.”
Pleth stood there trembling. Tears streamed down his dirt-caked face. “Wha-what?” he blubbered.
“Bull-fucking-shit!” Harvey yelled. “After they hung Alisa from a fucking lamp post, we deserve to take this fucker out! I want revenge!”
“No,” Astrid said, moving over to Harvey. She spoke to him in the same, calm, even tones she used on Pleth. “I know your anger, believe me. You don’t have to take every chance at revenge. That’s what makes evil. That’s not who the bandits are. I know that now. I’d die before I’d see the woods people turn evil.”
“You don’t know us at all if you think we’re going to let this shit stain walk away,” Harvey sneered. The other bandits stepped forward and placed their hands on their weapons.
“My husband is a good man,” Pleth’s wife spoke for the first time.
“No, I’m not, my love. Not by a long shot, but I love you, I—” Pleth said.
“Listen to your husband,” Janet said. “He’s right about that. Loving you and his kids doesn’t make him a ‘good man.’”
“Maybe not,” Astrid said. “But it’s a start. And believe me, he will not go unpunished. He will pay for how he’s treated Argan. If you kill him, he can only pay once for what he’s done. Let him live, and he can keep making up for his crimes.”
Pleth stood there, weeping with his double chin tucked into his chest.
Harvey spat on the ground. Astrid could tell she had almost won him over, but he had to save face. “If he doesn’t pay, I’ll kill him myself. You hear that, you fat turd?”
Pleth just muttered “Yes,” while Astrid untied him.
“Untie the woman,” Astrid said. “You are?” she asked.
“I am Karla,” she said.
“Things won’t be easy for you, Karla,” Astrid said. “You will be treated fairly. That is my guarantee. So will your husband, but that means something very different for him.”
Astrid squatted down on her hams in front of the two terrified children and smiled. “Don’t you two worry about a thing. You’re safe now. My friends and I will make sure you stay that way.”
“Don’t hurt my daddy,” the little girl said, crossing her arms. The boy tried to make his toughest face.
“You are good kids, I can tell,” Astrid said. “Nobody’s going to hurt your daddy. He’s just got a lot of work to do.”
Astrid stood and pulled Pleth over to his wife and children. “You and your husband can earn your keep by helping with the harvest.”
Pleth shook his head. “Harvest.” He looked confused. “Harvest is over.”
“There was another one,” Astrid said.
“A second harvest? I don’t understand.”
“You will,” Astrid said.
They marched the Pleth family up the hill to Argan. Harvey, Janet, and Dooley grumbled the whole way.
They came out of the woods and marched into the village square. Word traveled quickly that Pleth and his family had returned to Argan Village. The people came to see him with tools held in white-knuckled hands.
Pleth forgot his situation for a moment and marveled at the piles of unprocessed beets, rye, and oats. “The crops grew again?” he marveled.
Astrid grabbed the first young boy she could find. “Go find Popova and tell her to come to me fast. Hurry!”
The boy took off running.
“What is this, Astrid!” Dominic the shepherd shouted. “Dooley here tells me you invited him to stay? What is wrong with you!”
“Dominic, I can explain,” Astrid tried to say, but the shouting d
rowned her out. The crowd closed in.
Harvey laughed and shrugged his shoulders. He grinned at Astrid. “I should have told you,” he shouted above the voices. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Astrid’s blood went cold. Vinnie came up beside her, followed by Tarkon, Moxy, and Gormer. They formed a line. Pleth pulled his family behind the line. To his credit, he stepped out in front of Astrid and hung his head as he trembled.
“Stop it!” A shrill voice pierced the din. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!” As quickly as the sea of voices rose, it fell again. “Nobody is angrier than me at this person!” Popova said.
She touched the scar on her forehead and shoved Dominic back. She pushed back several more people before the crowd backed off.
“It doesn’t matter who he is. This village does not turn away people in need. Especially not children! We are not like him.”
Many people looked convinced, and nobody had the gumption to question their Elder.
“Thank you, Elder Popova,” Astrid said.
“You’ve brought me a challenge, Astrid,” Popova whispered. “Lucky for you, I like challenges.”
Astrid breathed a sigh of relief.
“This woman and these children are our guests and you will treat them as such. As for this man,” Popova said with no small amount of contempt. “You will work for your place here. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Elder. I understand. Thank you… ” Pleth blubbered.
“Don’t thank me yet, Pleth,” Popova said. “I suspect you’re not a man who knows hard work.”
“I grew up in a village,” Pleth blurted out.
“And here I thought you’d never surprise me,” Popova said. She grabbed his hands. And examined them. “Soft as a baby’s bum. You’re going to have blisters again. It might do you some good.” Popova pointed to the outside kitchen that was set up to feed the harvest workers. “You and your family go get yourselves something to eat, then you get to work.”
“I—I’ll work now—” Pleth said.
“Nonsense,” Popova said. “You can hardly stand. When’s the last time you ate?”
“Two days ago,” Karla said. “Some travelers on the road took pity on us, but Julius refused to eat so the children could get another meal.”
“Ha!” Gormer laughed. “Pleth’s name is ‘Julius.’ Who’d of thought… ”
“Is that supposed to impress me?” Dooley sneered. “He loves his kids, but doesn’t care if ours starve.”
“It does impress me,” Popova said. Turning to Pleth and his family, she said, “I’ll take you to eat. You’ll need your strength.” She took Pleth by the arm and pulled him through the crowd.
Some of the villagers glared at Astrid, who stared back and said, “You better not cause trouble. Do what Popova told you, or you’ll have to answer to me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” one woman said as she walked by. “I’ll make sure they’ll be OK here. Everybody deserves a second chance.”
“The rest will come around,” Astrid said. “I’ll make sure of that.”
Charlie ambled out of the fields with two bushel-baskets of hot peppers under his arms. They had saved harvesting the peppers for last because with all the crops gathered, they still had nowhere to store everything.
The barrel maker and his family had already built all the containers they could. They were busy crafting more of the raw materials that would let them build more.
“The extra crops are great,” Gormer said. “But what the hell are we going to do with sixteen bushels of hot peppers?”
“That’s the least of our worries,” Astrid said. “They can let the hot peppers rot. Even with the extra labor from the bandits and the trade with Blue Creek and Torvina, we can’t get rid of the crops we already have. We’ve already given George’s tribe a year’s supply of rye and oats.”
“Maybe we should haul them down south,” Tarkon said. “If it’s as bad as Sally said, I’m sure some of the villages would be grateful for extra grains.”
“Vicious circle,” Gormer observed. “They have to separate the oats and rye first and there are no more barrels to carry the stuff down there.”
“Just load it on the wagons,” Tarkon said. “Just like it is.”
Gormer fixed Tarkon with an annoyed stare. “You haven’t spent much time on a farm, have you? See that big pile over there?” Gormer pointed to a mound of unprocessed oats twice as tall as Astrid.
Tarkon nodded.
“About a quarter of that pile is shit you can eat. The rest is stalk and husk. It needs to be threshed. We’d have to take twenty wagons to get the equivalent of one barrel of oats. The villages just aren’t prepared to store the food they grow. The whole system is designed for the villages to ship most of their production to the keeps, then the fortress. The keeps have silos and warehouses. But now, we’re keeping the profits for ourselves.”
“I didn’t know all that. I’m a warrior, not a farmer,” he said, defensively.
“We’ll ask around,” Astrid said. “Maybe some of the other villages have empty barrels. What we really need is a silo.”
“Maybe down south they have barrels to spare,” Gormer said. “One thing’s for sure. If those oats aren’t processed in the next few days, they’ll go bad.”
Vinnie had been silent throughout the whole conversation. Astrid noticed he had stepped away from the others and stared at the piles of hot peppers with his hands on his hips.
“You hungry for those hot peppers, fat boy?” Gormer asked.
Vinnie casually flipped Gormer the middle finger. Still staring at the peppers, he said. “I have something better in mind. I’m staying here. Good luck on the raid.” He walked off fast toward the scribe’s workshop.
“He’s bailing on us?” Gormer asked. “That’s weird.”
Astrid shook her head. “Who knows what goes on in that brain of his.”
After a quick noon meal, Astrid and the rest—minus Vinnie—pitched in with threshing the rye and oats. The village had resorted to storing the grains in a sort of corral built out of fence posts and sackcloth. They would lose a bit this way to exposure to the elements and mice, but it was better than leaving the grains on the ground.
Astrid was amused that Pleth and his wife made a point to work beside her. The other villagers didn’t exactly treat the couple cordially. They backed off when they saw Astrid was perfectly willing to work with them.
What surprised Astrid most was that Pleth literally kept his head down and on his work. He wasn’t nearly as productive as the rest, but he worked as hard as he could, even when blisters appeared on his hands. By the time they were done, Astrid saw his hands were red and raw.
At the end of the workday, Astrid skipped dinner and ended up crawling into her sleeping loft above Popova’s kitchen early. She always slept well after a full day of work.
18
On The Road to the Southern District
Astrid woke before dawn and met Gormer, Moxy, and Tarkon at the stables. They prepared the horses without words. She had asked Harvey, Dooley, and Janet to ride with them. The bandits showed up looking bleary-eyed and sluggish.
Astrid wanted the bandits along because they made excellent guides, and she didn’t want them in Argan where they could stir up trouble. They were still very vocal about having Pleth and his family in town.
As they rode out, Astrid noticed that someone was already at work at the barrel-maker shop.
They rode hard through the forest and got to the camp an hour or two after dawn. There, they found a sizable party waiting for them.
Sally rode next to George, who divided his amorous stares evenly between Astrid and Sally. She had never been anything like a cupid, but she hoped to find ways to shift the balance of George’s stares completely over to Sally.
It was decided that Woody would stay behind and manage the mixed patrols they had organized to monitor movements of Jank’s men. So far, they hadn’t ventured too far into the forest. But
with the steady buildup of men at Keep 52, they had a feeling that might change soon. Astrid felt the risk of going down south while a raid on Argan occured was a growing possibility.
“This is taking forever,” Sally complained. “These hunting trails will take twice as long to get to the Southern District.”
“Are you seriously suggesting we take the Toll Road?” George asked.
“Yes,” Sally replied. “We have twenty-five fighters with us. We can take whatever guards we see.”
“We don’t know that,” Astrid stated. “And anyway, we’re not set up for that kind of fighting. We’ll lose some people and so will they.”
Sally looked around, then shrugged her shoulders. “My people don’t mind the risk.”
“Mine do,” George said flatly.
They stuck to the back paths and reached the Southern District by mid-morning. The Toll Road followed the river where the land was lower, but aside from that, it was much the same. The ancient Carpathian Mountains rose all around them, and the forest was thick.
“Now what?” Astrid asked.
“Now, we wait,” George said. He ordered his bandits to scout the road while Astrid and the rest surveyed the immediate area.
“We’re above the road here,” Astrid observed.
“The high ground is good for an ambush,” Tarkon observed.
Gormer slipped off his horse and wandered away, mumbling over his shoulder, “I gotta piss.”
He came back a few minutes later walking like his knees were made of rubber. Astrid knew he went off to get high.
“The sightlines are fucked here,” George observed. “Can’t see around that bend.” He pointed west where the Toll Road followed the turning river.
As they watched, two of the scouts came tearing around the corner.
“What the hell… ” Astrid said.
“That doesn’t look good,” Gormer observed, almost casually. He climbed back on his horse with glassy eyes and a stupid grin on his face.
The scouts drove their horses at suicidal speed up the tiny uphill trail they had taken earlier. They reached the ridge where the bulk of the party waited for their report.
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