Bastion Page 19

  “Dannel Brewer beat his wife. Fined four coppers.”

  “Why four?” Jakyr interrupted. “The law says eight.”

  “Foreby the bitch threw a stewpot at his head,” the Headman growled. “With the stew still in it.”

  “And why did she throw a stewpot at his head?” Jakyr persisted.

  “Foreby he came in drunk from reapin’.” The Headman said, exasperated.

  “Ah.” Jakyr nodded. “I’d have thrown a stewpot at his head, myself. A man can lose a foot, reaping drunk.”

  The Headman’s attitude lightened, an almost imperceptible bit. “Which is why I didno fine her. ’Twas a waste of good stew, but he got no dinner, and she refused to cook after he beat her, so I recked fourpence was enough on top of a empty belly.”

  “Have they learned better?” Jakyr asked.

  The Headman shrugged. “There’s no gettin’ drunk in that house afore dinner time and no more beatings.”

  Jakyr nodded. “Next?”

  They waded through judgment after judgment, until people began to file back into the inn, obviously wanting their beer and whatever they were accustomed to get with it. Jakyr stood up.

  “We’ll begin again tomorrow morning, Headman,” he said formally. “Thank you for your time.”

  With that, he headed for the door, with Mags following. It was already dark, and the innkeeper had lit the torch at the front door. They went around back, mounted up, and headed back to the Waystation.

  “Anything?” Jakyr asked, as soon as they were clear of the village.

  “Nothin’ important,” Mags replied. “We’re city folk with no call to be tellin’ them what t’do. They don’t like that the Guard’s gonna make sure they keep their boundaries straight. Headman thinks you got pride the size of a house, but you just might have a lick or two of sense.”

  “I’m flattered,” Jakyr said dryly. “At least they don’t want to poison our beer.”

  “It’s mostly they don’t like people outside of their own Lord tellin’ ’em what t’do, and they ain’t too fond of their own Lord doin’ it, neither,” Mags reported. “Guard was right. This’s gonna be a sticky Circuit.”

  “I don’t mind, so long as it gets no worse.” They rode in silence the rest of the way to the Waystation, with Mags pondering that in his mind.

  • • •

  In the morning, their session with the Headman over small beer and buttered bread was interrupted by a commotion from outside. Jakyr paid no attention to it, and the scattered bits of thought that Mags picked up told him that the commotion was due to the arrival of the others. He expected all four to come into the inn, but it was only Lita and Lena.

  The innkeeper greeted them with a lot more enthusiasm than he had Mags and Jakyr, and he and Lena engaged in a spirited bargaining session that nevertheless managed to be quiet enough that it didn’t interrupt Jakyr and the Headman. When they had struck a bargain to Lita’s liking, she and Lena left and came back again with an assortment of instruments. These, they set by the hearth, and the innkeeper fed them.

  The Headman’s heart was obviously no longer in defending his judgments like a badger defending his sett. He kept eying Lita and Lena as if trying to figure how good they were just from how they were eating their luncheon (which was much better than the one the innkeeper had offered Mags and Jakyr). And instead of making Jakyr pry out every little detail, he was offering it all in one go, almost blurting it out. Mags caught the corner of Jakyr’s mouth quirking a little. Whether she meant to or not, Lita was making their job much easier.

  The Headman heaved a great sigh of relief as they got to the end of his judgment book, shortly before supper. “I’ve nothing to complain about, Headman,” Jakyr said, as the man closed his book and stowed it away in his satchel. “I’ll not be needing to see anyone you called judgment on, unless they wish to bring something up before me. So I’ll be back in the morning to give them the opportunity. Meanwhile, the Crown thanks you for your cooperation.”

  At any other time, the Headman might have muttered something uncomplimentary about the Crown, but there was a Bard and her Journeyman sitting not four lengths away from him, and it was clear there was going to be some excellent entertainment in less than a candlemark. So he just mumbled something marginally gracious back, and hurried out, the image clear in his mind that he was going to return his judgment book, tell his wife that the children could be given their dinner by the cook, and he was treating her to the inn tonight, and hurry her back here.

  Jakyr raised an eyebrow. Mags shook his head slightly. Jakyr relaxed, and before the inn got too crowded, he ordered a meal for both of them. The innkeeper at this point was so beside himself with happiness that his inn was going to be crammed full tonight that he didn’t even bother to charge them real money. He accepted the chit absently and hurried back down to his cellar to bring up another barrel of beer. There would be a lot of drinking tonight; throats got dry when people were encouraged to sing along, and when people were choked up with emotion, they tended to drink as well, and a Bard who wanted the good will of the innkeeper would see to it those moments came often.

  The food wasn’t as good as Jakyr’s cooking, but it wasn’t anything you had to choke down. The inn slowly filled, and Mags and Jakyr moved to the farthest corner of the room to make way for people for whom this was going to be a rare treat.

  :Should we leave?: he Mindsent to Jakyr.

  He sensed the effort it took his mentor to reply. :No. Would look odd. Understand?:

  After a moment of thought, he did understand. Why would the Heralds leave—presumably for an ill-tended Waystation, isolated outside of town—right when the inn was full of people, warm, they were getting a good meal, and not just one, but two Bards were about to perform? People would ask why, and there was no good explanation for leaving like that.

  And anything they tried to do to make it believable would only make the whole situation look odder. Shoulder their way out, muttering loudly how much they hated music? Very bad idea. No one would ever believe it. Pretend a sudden headache or illness? Ridiculous. And there was no way, in their Whites and Grays, that they could get out inconspicuously.

  The best thing they could do was what they were doing; it was courteous of them to get to the back of the room and allow others a better view. That would reflect well on them. But they should be listening as if they had never heard Lita and Lena play before, and show their appreciation. Not that this would be difficult, after all.

  And this would be an excellent way to see if there was anything amiss among the people of this village. Most of them would be here tonight, and if anyone was harboring guilty secrets, given the usual content of the songs that Lita performed, sooner or later something would leak out where he could “see” it. So as they listened to Lita and Lena tune up, he let stray thoughts brush against his mind, looking for ones that were out of the ordinary.

  He really didn’t find anything. When they weren’t being surly and resentful, these were just normal farming folk. There were no dark secrets here. People did stupid, sometimes unkind things. People did things that were a little bad, things that they were ashamed of. People cheated a little on their taxes, got a little greedy, sometimes they pilfered something that wasn’t properly theirs, they quarreled, they abused each other (but never to the point that it would call for a Herald’s intervention) and were basically just . . . people. A little good, a little bad, mostly just getting by. Not even close to the level of evil that Cole Pieters and his sons maintained.

  And when they hurt someone, in general, they made it up later, were kind, generous, thoughtful, contrite.

  Ordinary folks, a muddle in the middle, just trying to get by with the least amount of pain and the greatest amount of joy. He could not argue with that.

  He caught one thought that was directed at him just as the ladies finished tuning and were about to start.

  Mags. I know you can hear this. Bear and I did well. We’re up at the front. We’ll
talk back at the caves.

  That was Amily. He thought about Mindsending to her to ask if she and Bear had run into anything he and Jakyr should know about, then he realized that if she had, she would have found a way to get a message to him. Everyone in the village knew where they were all day, after all.

  So he relaxed and stayed alert, but he prepared to enjoy himself.

  Might as well enjoy himself. There was a cold ride back to a cold Waystation waiting them at the end of the evening.

  10

  At the end of four days, he and Jakyr packed up their things and headed back to The Bastion. He was not sorry to leave that Waystation; it was drafty, and they had to heat stones in the fireplace to warm their beds enough that they could get to sleep at night. The only reason they had eaten well was because Jakyr had been warned to carry a sizable purse with him to buy the things that they should have been offered. So, that was one village. If the rest of them were going to be just as “welcoming,” well . . . that cave was going to look very good.

  Actually, it was appealing right now. There had been ice on the water in the buckets inside this morning. Despite stoking the fire, they’d only gotten the temperature in the Station to the point where the ice melted before they left. He was looking forward to a steam bath as soon as possible. Maybe the next village would be better.

  “Are we going back to the cave or on to the next village?” he asked, as they rode away from the little Waystation on the morning of the fourth day. The third day had proceeded without any drama at all. The people of the village had still been standoffish, and the Headman had marginally thawed but still was not what one could call “friendly.” But prowling around with his shields down still yielded nothing they needed to concern themselves with. Jakyr summoned everyone together again, announcing that anyone who wanted to appeal a judgment or bring a grievance up could come to him, and still there were no flares of anger, or guilt, or . . . anything, really. Mostly a wish that the Herald would stop interrupting work.

  “Back to the cave,” Jakyr said with resignation, as the Companions loped their way down the trail to The Bastion. “I see now why the Guard supplied us so well, why I was told to carry money, and why everyone suggested we use The Bastion as the hub of a wheel instead of riding the usual pattern. If all the Waystations are neglected like the last one, we’ll have to bring three days’ worth of supplies with us to each of them. I wish now we had a pack animal, but I suppose we can carry enough grain and some hay that the Companions will be all right.”

  :We’ll be fine. We have a knack for taking care of ourselves when we need to.:

  “Dallen says not to worry about him and Jermayan,” he reported.

  Jakyr smiled faintly. “Jer said much the same thing. It’s true that somehow they seem to be able to find food where not even a goat would be able to browse.”

  “I’m glad we have Lena and Lita and Bear with us. It will make getting real information out of these people much easier,” Mags noted, ducking under a branch. “The people in this district seem to be just as suspicious of authority as the people down around Nikolas’s pawn shop.”

  “Not suspicious of authority,” Jakyr corrected, holding aside another branch on the overgrown trail. A moment later, Mags did the same on his side. There was room for them to ride side by side; in fact, there was room for the caravan, and there were faint traces of its wheels on the ground, where the fallen leaves had been crushed into the damp earth. Mags had to wonder, though, how many times they would be able to use it . . . how many of these “roads” would stay passable and for how long. “They are perfectly content with their own people who are in authority, like the Headman. It’s outside authority they have a quarrel with. They think that they can do just fine without us. All they see is what we demand of them and conveniently forget what they get from us.”

  Mags pondered this, then tucked it into the back of his mind. He needed to think about that. It might come in handy if he had some answers to toss back at anyone who objected openly, and he knew enough now about governance to put together quite a little list.

  Hazard—or benefit—of having to stand through all those Council meetings disguised as a page.

  Jakyr looked over at him and smiled a little more. “You did very well there, Mags. Kept your head. Gave me exactly what I needed when I needed it. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d done this before.” He paused. “That last was a joke.”

  Mags grinned a little and ducked his head. “Just doing what Nikolas taught me to do; I figured that was mostly what you needed from me. Stay in the background an’ just . . . listen. Amily says she has some stuff to tell us, but it ain’t bad. An’ Lena and Bard Lita did a hell of a job distractin’ people.”

  Jakyr frowned a little but nodded. “Much as I am loath to admit it, the ladies are doing us very good service on this assignment. We could do it without them, but it would be harder.”

  “Well . . . what can they do to help more?” Mags asked. There was a long silence punctuated by the calls of crows, rooks, and starlings. “Because they’ll do it, ’specially if I ask Lena and Lena asks Bard Lita.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Jakyr said, then changed the subject to what sorts of supplies they would need to pack out from now on and how much the Companions could carry.

  • • •

  The Bastion seemed very quiet without the other four there, but Mags was sure that between them he and Jakyr could probably make enough noise that it wouldn’t seem completely empty. Just getting the steam bath going would make plenty of noise, for instance, and he was looking forward to getting a good long one. While Jakyr stoked up the fire, got luncheon ready, and put things to rights, Mags took care of unsaddling the Companions and turning them loose.

  He headed into the cave with every intention of first starting rocks to heat in the fire for the steam bath, then getting a book and settling down to read until the others returned. But he never got that chance.

  “Mags, go sit down a moment,” Jakyr ordered, as soon as he had cleared the entrance and gotten down into the living area. The Herald’s voice made it an order, and Mags heart dropped. What had he done wrong? Or was—was it something that he hadn’t done? Omission was as bad, or worse, as commission . . .

  He sank down on one of the rugs, and pulled his knees up to his chest, quaking inside with dread. Because surely something terrible had happened, or he himself had done something terrible. Or—not done something critical. Or overlooked something important.

  Jakyr had already started a fire in the firepit, and it was slowly warming the area. Now he dropped carelessly down on the cushion next to the one Mags was using and wrapped his cloak around himself. “Well, now. This should have been your father’s little lecture to give. Or Nikolas, but that would make things altogether impossibly awkward, wouldn’t it?” Jakyr’s square face twisted in an ironic smile. “It hasn’t escaped anyone that you and Amily have put your sleeping gear together and you’re using the same cave. So, how far has it gotten? I’m not accusing you, not even close, I just want to know what stage you two are at.”

  This was not how he had expected that question to come up. Or the direction he had expected it to go in.

  “It hasn’t!” Mags blurted, all the things he had been planning to say flying right out of his head now that the moment was here. “It hasn’t gotten anywhere! I mean, we been kissin’ and gettin’ ourselves all up and bothered, but—we ain’t done anything yet!”

  Jakyr looked taken entirely aback by the confession. “Uh . . . why? I mean, why not? You love each other, you’re both certainly old enough to know what you’re getting into. I would have expected you to be—well—” For the first time, ever, Mags saw Jakyr flush with something other than anger.

  “’Cause I dunno what t’ do, an’ I don’ want to hurt her,” Mags choked out. There was the crux of it, really. He loved Amily, he knew that the first time always hurt, and—how could he love someone and still want to do something that hurt
her? Besides, the only sort of sex he’d seen with the mine kids had been . . . mindless. Like a couple of dogs just pounding away because they could, with no thought in it. “I mean, the mine kids was always up in each other when they got old enough an’ they wasn’t completely dead tired or starvin’, but I don’ want it t’be like that!”

  “Huh. Well, well. As the saying goes, ‘Two virgins in a bed is one virgin too many,’ I suppose. This is certainly nothing I expected to hear from you.” Jakyr got even redder. “I’m at a loss—there goes my planned speech about the proper precautions and all of that.”

  “Lena tol’ Amily all them things and give her th’ herbs. She’s been takin’ ’em all along,” said Mags, now blushing painfully himself. From feeling as if he were a little’un who’d been caught doing something wrong, he had gone to feeling like someone who should have been doing something but didn’t know how. Which, of course, was the point. All the other Trainees who were . . . keeping company with girls never seemed to have any difficulty keeping everybody pleased. “Bear wanted her t’ do it anyway, on account of I guess it was gonna help her heal faster. I jest . . . I dunno how t’ make things good for a girl . . .”

  He just could not go on. He just sat there, feeling hot and hideously embarrassed. Why couldn’t they have lessons in these things? Why couldn’t Dallen at least have helped? It’s not as if he would dare to make himself look stupid in front of the rest of the fellows for not knowing something so basic!

  “It’s not the sort of thing you could talk about to your friends, is it?” Jakyr said sympathetically, echoing his thoughts. He crossed his legs and leaned back against the hay-stuffed cushion. “Or Dean Caelen. He’s not supposed to know that you Trainees have that sort of interest in each other. It keeps things simpler.”

  “Or anybody at the Collegium,” Mags pointed out. “I mean, Amily’s Nikolas’s daughter, and people were already watchin’ us like . . . I dunno, it’s just that everybody was always watchin’ us, and anybody I mighta been able to talk to was one of the ones watchin’!” He stared at Jakyr in something like despair. “No matter who I talked to, it was gonna get back to Nikolas, an’ then what?”