Scholars and Other Undesirables
By Ben Stiebel
Copyright 2011 Published at Smashwords
Prologue
There was no road between Tom’s cottage and the creek, just a track trampled down by the comings and goings of people to and from the cottage. Most of the trampling was done by Joff. He was neither the youngest nor the eldest. He was the most imaginative. Tom said that Joff had so much imagination that there was no room left in his head for anything else.
Putting Joff to any task guaranteed that it got done in an absent minded kind of way that left neighbors and relatives asking such awkward questions as, “How do you churn butter wrong?” and “Why did you plow the cow pasture?” He was not a lazy or mischievous boy. His mind and body simply failed to be in the same place most of the time. So he was given jobs like fetching water from the creek because it was hard to mess that up . . . much.
Today Joff had followed a strange, green bird away from the track and toward the road. It was smallish, about the size of a winged mouse, and flitted from tree branch to tree branch. Joff did not wish to catch the bird, just to get a closer look. Unfortunately the bird did not care for being looked at. If something looked at it too closely then that something might decide that it looked good to eat.
The bird led Joff to the road that went past the cottage. A leatherbound book lay in the road and made Joff forget all about the bird. Noble lairds and the augurs who talked to gods and spirits for them sometimes passed this way. One of them must have dropped the book. Joff picked it up and slapped the dust away. A picture of a dragon was bossed into the cover. One word was written above it. “Dragon,” Joff read. He had never learned to read, but it was not too hard to guess what the word said when it had a picture to go with it. Joff opened the book. It had more pictures and words.
The book was his companion for the next few weeks. He made out words from the pictures and guessed at the words he did not know. Tom and Lily watched him with concern. Neither of them could read. Neither of them understood why anyone would want to. But it did keep Joff too busy to do any damage around the farm. When he was not reading, Joff worked more diligently. Something about the book focused him. After a week with the book he had stopped trying to milk the chickens. Tom and Lily were grateful for the change, as were the chickens.
That winter Joff started dropping things and even short walks took away his breath. At first the family thought he had taken some common germ, but when Joff could not longer get out of bed they knew it was time to summon a healer.
The healer they found was a tall, lean man named Torman who traveled in a wagon pulled by a pair of small horses. He mournfully agreed to do what he could for Joff for the few meager coins the family could provide. Joff’s weakness and ghe fact that he had stopped growing identified the disease, a rare ailment known as the Wasting. The cause was not known. The disease weakened the patient’s muscles until the heart, itself just another muscle, stopped beating. Torman treated Joff with a variety of medicinal herbs and with incantations meant to invoke the gods and other supernatural beings. After a week of treatment Torman sat down with Tom and Lily to discuss Joff’s condition. They did this when all of the children had gone to bed and they had as much privacy as a one room peasant cottage could offer.
“What kind of life did you want for your son?” Torman asked.
“I had hoped to find a way to get him some land,” Tom said. “He’s not the eldest, you see, so he won’t inherit this place.”
“We also thought we might apprentice him,” Lily added. “The money we gave you . . .” She trailed off. Tom put his hand around her shoulders. They both had to struggle not to cry.
Torman nodded. “He will survive. My herbs and my magic have assured that.” The couple both started to smile but Torman raised his hand, forestalling them. “But, he will not regain his strength. He will never be a farmer, nor a craftsman, nor a soldier.”
“An invalid?” Lily asked. She raised her hand to her mouth and shut her eyes tight.
“Not as such,” Torman replied. “He will be able to walk and talk and so forth. He will never be strong and he certainly won’t be capable of working a field or any such labor.” Torman looked down at the table and took a deep breath, already regretting what he was about to offer. “He is a smart enough lad and he seems keen to reading.”
“I told him not to let on about that,” Tom said, making a disapproving face. “Still don’t know just how he picked it up. No offense to you, sir. It’s just not a farmer’s lot to trouble about books and such like.”
Torman raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. Normally children of farmers are not allowed to enter the Academy. Your son is a special case. As far as I can tell he taught himself to read. He must be exceptionally bright. He also has nowhere else to go. I will recommend him.”
Lily’s expression went from grief stricken to confused. “An augur?”
“No, no,” Torman replied. “Magic requires almost as much physical exertion as farming or fighting. Your son will not be able to do that. But he does have a talent for words and letters. The Academy always needs translators.”
“What’s that?” Tom asked, now looking as confused as his wife.
Torman sighed. These peasants had probably never heard a language other than their own and written words meant nothing to them. He might as well explain the concept of running to a fish. “You call the thing we’re sitting at a ‘table.’ In High Genasi, it’s a ‘roke.’ I just translated from one language to the other. Do you understand?”
Tom started nodding, then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”
“Different people from different places have different words for things,” Torman explained patiently. “So if we get a book written in High Genasi, we need someone who can read that language and translate it into our own. Else a great deal of knowledge is lost.”
“Can he earn a living doing this?” Lily asked. She did not really know what the healer was talking about, but it did not much matter. The important thing was that her son would have a livelihood.
“Yes,” Torman replied, appreciating her pragmatism.
Tom opened his mouth to speak, but Lily cut him off. “Can he earn a living doing anything else?”
Torman shook his head. “Not that I’m aware. His disability will be such that most trades will be closed to him.”
Tom and Lily looked at each other. “I guess that settles it, then,” Tom said. “My son is going to be a trans . . .”
“Translater,” Torman said helpfully. He silently wondered how a boy raised by people such as these would ever find his way among the nobility, clergy, and gentry who populated the academy.
Chapter 1
A stillness accompanied the gathering dusk, a calm that should not have been. Jain looked around nervously. Normally she heard animals moving in the forest as well as birdsong. Her village sat right at the edge of the woods and her family’s modest home was at the edge of town. By order of the laird, hunters and woodcutters had to travel deep into the forest for wood and game all summer. This ensured that those things would be close at hand during the harsh winter months. In the spring it was often quiet, the animals having been scared away. But now, in early autumn, the near woods teemed with life.
“Get a move on, girl,” her father, Daniel, called from the house. “Airk won’t want a dreamer for a wife.”
Airk, she thought as she set her basket down and started to fill it with firewood from the pile. She was to marry him at the Winter Solstice festival. Airk was a good man and his family had a good farm. Together they would raise good children. But he was so dull. Airk thought of nothing save the best rotations for crops and the best feed for his livestock. The chickens and pigs surely appreciated it, but Jain wanted something else. She wanted something fun, or interesting, or even just different.
She scolded herself as she lifted the basket. Airk’s family had asked no dowry, knowing that her family could afford none. He did not anger quickly and had never struck anyone. His taste for drink was limited to an ale at meal times. And he was handsome in the stocky, sturdy way of farmers. Jain could have been betrothed to Ian, the lunatic son of the blacksmith who just about everyone avoided, or Julian, the drunkard son of another farmer, or Dudley, the merchant’s pig of a son. But her parents had done far better by her. She would have a good life with Airk, if a slightly boring one.
Someone knocked at the door as the family sat at dinner. Daniel put down the piece of bread that he had been eating and walked to the door. “Who could that be?” Jain’s mother Joan asked.
Daniel opened the door and greeted Eduard. Eduard wore knee high leather boots and black trousers. A mismatched sword and dagger hung from his belt and he wore a simple dun colored shirt like those worn by soldiers. He had arrived a the village a few days earlier and had paid for a weeklong stay at the inn. No one knew who he was or why he was there, but the daughters of the village had all been advised to stay away. Jain looked at him, at his lean, wiry form, at his dark hair and tanned face, and at the garish scar on his cheek that gave his otherwise ordinary face its adventurous, almost feral character.
“What can I do for you, Master Eduard?” Daniel asked.
Eduard looked past Daniel and made eye contact with Jain for just a moment before she turned her eyes back to her food.
“I’m not happy with the accommodations for my horse at the inn,” Eduard explained. “You have a good stable. I was wondering if I could put the horse up here. It will only be a few days and I will pay you.”
Daniel glanced over his shoulder at Jain and her younger sister Eliza. “I’m sorry, Master Eduard. My stables are full and I wouldn’t know how to take care of a horse so fine as yours.”
Eduard started to say something, thought better of it, and nodded. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your meal.”
After Eduard went away and Daniel returned to the table, Joan spoke. “We could use some coin.”
Daniel shook his head. “I don’t want him around. He’s trouble. Some of us have been talking about having a word with Marcus about letting his type stay in town.”
Jain wanted to say that Eduard had to stay somewhere and that Marcus the innkeeper needed the coin. But even though she would soon be married, Jain was still considered a child in this house and thus was to be seen and not heard.
The next morning Joan sent Jain to fetch some water from the village well. Jain carried two heavy buckets. Joan only needed one but carrying only one would put Jain off balance, and besides, she did not want to have to make the trip again that day if she could avoid it.
Most of the villagers were away at the fields. The harvest was coming in and every pair of hands would be needed if the villagers were to pay their taxes and survive the winter. That was why Jain was surprised to see Airk walking down the lane. A coin purse jingled in his belt as he walked.
“Master Airk,” Jain said. “What are you doing in town?”
Airk smiled. He had a nice smile. He had the whitest teeth of anyone Jain knew. “Wishing I was on the farm. Father broke two of the tines on his hayfork this morning. He sent me to get another one.”
“I though your family had three of every tool.”
“I thought so, too,” Airk answered regretfully. “One was broken last year and we never got around to replacing it. Another one broke today. I don’t know what happened to the third one, though I suspect Eli had something to do with it.” Eli was Airk’s younger brother. Their father had tried to whip the mischief out of Eli on many occasions, but every discipline seemed to make the wayward boy a little more unpredictable. Airk nodded to the buckets in Jain’s hands. “Do you need any help?”
Some part of Jain was flattered at the offer. It was a kindness for someone on an errand of his own, someone whose father rewarded tardiness with the lash, to make such an offer. That was not the part of Jain that said, “I can do it.”
Airk nodded, smiled, and bade her good day.
As Jain filled the buckets she wondered if she had done the right thing in refusing Airk’s offer. He was very kind and she knew that she would do well to cultivate that kindness. But Jain did not want to depend on him the way some women depended on their husbands. She wanted to be free to walk in the village and even in the woods by herself without Airk worrying all the time. As she began the walk home the vastness of her future spread out before her. She would have to work out how to get along with Airk, a boy she had always liked but was sure she would never love. She had to be the mistress of her own household, raise her own children, and make any number of decisions that Joan had always made for her.
A copper coin landed in the dust at Jain’s bare feet. “Penny for your thoughts?” She looked in the direction from which the coin had come and into the pale blue eyes of Eduard. “You look troubled. Maybe you should have let your fiancée carry those buckets for you.”
“I can do it,” Jain repeated. She was a little short of breath, perhaps from the exertion of carrying the buckets. She set them down. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”
Eduard shrugged as he stepped out from between the houses and into the lane. “Man like me needs to know what’s going on. Nothing personal. Just an old habit. Too bad your father wouldn’t let me put my horse up in your barn. He’s quite a stallion.” Eduard smirked. “But what troubles such a fine lady on such a fine day?”
“No trouble,” Jain answered as she folded her arms. “I have a bright future and I’m only looking forward to it.”
Eduard casually stepped closer to her and grinned. “Milking cows, feeding babies, sweeping the cottage. The thrill must be almost too much for you.”
Jain was suddenly aware that he was very near to her. It did not bother her as much as it seemed like it should have. “That is the life that is given to me. It could be much worse.”
Eduard looked away and sniffed. “I suppose. But it could be a bit less dull, couldn’t it?”
“What are you saying?” Jain asked. She willed herself to take a step back from him but her legs did not comply.
Eduard leaned forward, close enough for her to feel his breath in her ear. “I could take you away from all of this. We could travel together, seek our fortune, take whatever we want, do whatever we want.” He took a step back. “It’s your life. You know where to find me. Good day.” He stepped between the houses and disappeared.
Jain stood for a moment. Would Airk ever make her heart flutter the way Eduard just had? Would Airk ever whisper in her ear in a way that would make her body tingle? She shook herself out of it. Her mother needed the water and she had chores to do.
That night, Jain lay awake on her palette while Eliza snored next to her. Daniel and Joan slept in the palette opposite the fire while Jain’s three brothers all shared the palette opposite her own. Airk’s family’s cottage had a common room, a room for Airk’s parents, a room for Airk and Eli, and another room for Airk’s sisters. They had also started a entirely separate cottage for Airk and Jain to live in once they were married. It would have two rooms to start and Airk had promised that more would be added as they were needed. For Jain this would be like living in the royal palace. But she could not sleep.
She startled when something tapped her shoulder. In the dim firelight she could just make out the shape of her father. Daniel raised his chin toward the door and Jain silently followed him out of the house. Under a starry sky the world felt strangely crisp and clear. Nights like this made Jain wonder why everyone did their work during the day.
“You are troubled,” Daniel said matter of factly.
“Yes, father,” Jain said, bowing her head.
“Tell me about it,” Daniel said. He put a finger to her chin and gently raised her head so that she looked him in the eye.
She told him about it. She told him about her mixed feelings about Airk and about how Eduard had approached her with such a tempting offer. Daniel gritted his teeth and Jain lowered her head in anticipation of a blow. But Daniel did not raise his hand. Instead he spoke very softly. “Do you know why I betrothed you to Airk?”
“He’s a good man,” Jain said.
“Ivan offered me fifty sils if I would betroth you to Ian.”
Jain gasped. Daniel had once had a very good harvest in a very bad year. That had brought the family thirty-seven sils and half of that had gone to the laird. With fifty sils Daniel could buy livestock, rent more land, anything he wanted really.
“I refused because I know Ian to be a violent man,” Daniel explained. “The money would be a thrill, but seeing you in a good marriage was more important. Think about it, daughter. The rogue may offer you a thrill, an adventure. But it was not he who offered to help you carry the water. It was not he who built you a cottage. It was not he who will still be with you in your old age.”
“Yes, father,” Jain said. He was right, she knew. Eduard would abandon her as soon as she was with child. Even if she managed to avoid that, how long would it be before he cast her aside for some other maiden from some other village? She would end up a ruined, destitute woman if she went with Eduard. Airk would stay with her forever. When she was heavy with child, when her youth lay well behind her, until she slept in the cold earth, Airk would be with her.
Chapter 2
They went back inside, and Jain fell into the deepest sleep of her life.
The next day the family heard screams while they sat at breakfast. Daniel jumped up and grabbed his axe. “Boys, arm yourselves and protect your mother and the girls,” he said on his way to the door. Joan barred the door behind him after he left. Everyone cast about for a weapon. Jain took a log from the fireplace. The commotion outside continued. Men shouted and cursed and were drowned out by roars that made Eliza whimper.
“What is that?” David, the oldest of the boys at sixteen, asked.
“Quiet!” Joan hissed.
Eliza began to bawl and Jain set down the log and started to whisper. “It’s alright, sissie. Father will protect us. He’ll protect the whole village. He’s strong. But, Sissie, you need to stay quiet.”
Eliza nodded. She continued to cry but she did so more quietly. Something crashed into the door. They all jumped and Eliza screamed. Jain snatched up the log.
“Daniel, is that you?” Joan called.
The crash came again and the nails on the door hinges came loose. “That’s not father,” David said as he took a step back.
The door fell off the hinges and a man stepped into the house. He had crescent shaped scars that started at the corners of his mouth and curved up to meet the corners of his eyes. Those eyes made Joan shriek. Those eyes held a depth of hatred none of them had ever seen. The scarred man howled his rage at . . . what? What had they ever done? He charged in, spear leading, at David. Jain struck the scarred man on the shoulder, throwing off his balance. She struck him across the face and he staggered back a few steps. Jain continued to strike. The log seemed to rise and fall of its own accord. When the scarred man fell, the log continued to strike. When he dropped his spear, when he ceased to move, when blood spattered onto the walls , the table, the uneaten food, the log continued to rise and fall, until a hand stronger than her own caught it and pulled it away.
“It’s over,” Daniel whispered as he hugged her tight. “They’ve gone.”
The boys dragged the body outside while Joan saw to a cut on Daniel’s thigh. The wound was not deep but it had been inflicted with a rusty blade and would fester if left untreated. Eliza went to the well for water to clean up the blood. Jain sat and trembled as she waited for the adrenalin to wear off.
“Who were they?” Jain eventually asked.
“They’re called ‘Rephaim’,” Daniel said. “They come from Genasi. That’s west of here. The city was destroyed; the people went mad.”
Jain hugged herself. She had heard the stories of men gone raving mad, raiding, murdering, even eating people. “You beat them, father?”
“They attacked Allen’s farm,” Daniel explained. “Took them by surprise. But it would take a battering ram to get into that cottage. The farm is burning. Airk and some of the lads are working a bucket brigade.” Daniel looked at the floor. “Airk’s parents died. They were taken by surprise. His sister saw it. That was the scream we heard. Eli and Airk fought. Eli died, too.”
Jain shook her head. “His whole family?”
“His sister is alive,” Daniel corrected. “But she’s not in her right mind. The augura said that she will take care of her.”
“Is Airk okay?” Jain asked, almost sobbing.
“He is alive and he is not hurt,” Daniel replied. “When I got there he was fighting with a hayfork. He was incredible. Eduard was there first and fought beside him. They made quite a pair.”
“Are there many others dead?” Joan asked as she finished the bandage.
Daniel shook his head. “It could have been worse. Ian rushed in and got himself killed. The rest of us stayed close together. The widow Liselle was killed when one of the Rephaim fled into the village. I reckon it was the same one who broke in here.”
Jain rose and smoothed her blood spattered shirt and skirt into something like a dignified arrangement. “I must go and see to Airk. He must be heartbroken.”
“There’s a good girl,” Daniel said.
The bucket brigade had succeeded in saving both of Airk’s family’s cottages and the henhouse but the fields were lost. Airk sat on an old tree stump looking dazed. Eduard was next to him. A bottle sat between them and they took turns drinking from it. Eduard looked up at Jain’s approach. When he saw that her attention was on Airk, Eduard stood up and patted Airk amiably on the shoulder. Then the rogue walked off toward the inn.
“Airk!” Jain cried. She wrapped him in a tight hug. For a moment he remained still but then he hugged her back and began to sob. They stayed that way for a long time. Some of the villagers would talk about such an inappropriate embrace between an unmarried couple but Jain did not care. After a while Airk stopped crying and let go. Jain sat down on the ground beside him. She tried to think of something to say, but what could she say to a someone who had lost so much?
“Are you hurt?” Airk asked suddenly. “You’ve bled so.”
Jain looked down at her clothing. “It’s not my own. One of them came into our house. I killed him. I . . .” She began to sob as the weight of what had happened sunk in.
They buried the dead that afternoon. The augura, a wise old woman learned in the ways of the gods and goddesses, said prayers to speed the dead villagers and those who had attacked them to the afterlife. There had been four Rephaim in the group. It seemed unlikely that the Rephaim had not planned to take on the whole village. Instead they must have intended only to attack the one farm, not realizing how quickly the other villagers would rally.
The women of the village left the cemetery first so that the men could observe their custom of urinating in the graves of their enemies. But the men came running quickly when they heard the sound of hoof beats approaching from the north, the direction of Airk’s family’s farm. A rider carrying the blue and yellow banner of Laird Tomkin approached.
“Make way for your laird!” the rider called.
The villagers all stepped off the road. A company of ten men wearing steel helmets and coated in chainmail approached on horseback. Tomkin rode at the front, his back straight, a sword on his hip, and a shield slung from the saddle. He was the very picture of a knight. He reigned in his horse in front of the augura.
“My lord,” she said in her scratchy voice as she bowed.
Tomkin nodded. “We have tracked a band of Rephaim across the plain. We engaged them two days ago with great slaughter on both sides. Four of them escaped. Was it they who burned the farm we passed? Speak quickly.” He did not look directly at the augura as he spoke but rather through her, as if she were too small a thing for his eyes to focus on.
“My lord,” Airk interjected. “It was them. They killed all there save myself and my sister.” Airk gestured to the rest of the villagers. “These people came to our aid. We killed all of the Rephaim.”
Tomkin looked at the augura. “Is this true?”
“It is, my lord,” she rasped. “The courage of our men is great.”
“I know every man who holds a farm in my lands,” Tomkin said, looking back at Airk. “But I do not know you.”
“I am Airk,” Airk said. “My father was Allen. He was killed by the Rephaim.”
Tomkin nodded. “That’s a fine piece of land your father had. Have you a family, Master Airk?”
“No, my lord. I am to wed this coming Solstice.”
Tomkin nodded. “Very well. We shall take food and rest at the inn. My men and horses are tired from the chase. Where is the innkeeper?”
“Here, my lord,” Marcus said as he stepped forward. “I will prepare everything for you.” He bowed and scurried off.
Laird Tomkin and his company rode into town and the villagers began to follow. Jain went with them, but Daniel caught her arm. “I want you to stay with Airk tonight.” He caught Eliza’s sleeve as she walked by. “Both of you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Our laird and his men have been known to deprive young girls of their maidenhood.” Jain looked around and saw that many fathers were talking to many daughters in hushed tones.
Joan gathered up food to take and accompanied her daughters to Airk’s cottage. Daniel stayed behind with the boys in case the laird needed them for anything. It was a cool evening but not quite as clear as the night before had been. The women still found their way to the farm with ease. The smell of ash was as good as a beacon in the night.
In a nook between two cottages something moved in the shadows. Jain stopped and looked. She saw Eduard there, crouched low with his cloak drawn about him. He saw her and put a hand to his lips. Then he pointed at one of the walls. There was nothing remarkable about that wall, but beyond it, across the lane from the cottage, was the inn. Eduard was hiding. None of the laird’s men were out, so he either enjoyed hiding for the sake of it or he had committed some crime for which he was still wanted. Jain was very glad then that she had not gone with him. She rushed to catch up with her mother and sister.
Airk greeted them with a smile. He had not had any thought of food since the battle, and, once he started eating, found that he was famished. The women kept looking around the cottage as they ate. They had known that it was split up into more than one room. What they had not known was that each room was bigger than Daniel’s cottage, significantly bigger. The walls of Daniel’s cottage were made of logs notched to fit together. The walls of Airk’s cottage were made of logs that had been hewn to have four smooth sides. The family had carved pictures into the wood in some places and hung colorful blankets and other decorations in others.
The four of them ate their meal in silence. After they had eaten, Airk banked the fire and bolted the door. He also closed and latched the shutters on all the windows and leaned his hayfork against the wall next to the bed. The house had actual beds in all the rooms instead of the palettes that Daniel’s family used.
Jain had never worried much about her family’s station in life. They were peasants like everyone else in the village. Her impending marriage and the discussions around it had introduced her to the world of money. She had always known of money, known that some had it and her family did not. But she had always assumed that everyone else in the village was as poor as she.
As she lay awake in the divinely comfortable bed, Jain realized that Daniel and Joan had worked very hard to keep their poverty a secret from their children. Even when the harvest was bad they always had clean clothes that fit and the children always had food. Thinking back to the last bad harvest, Jain remembered her father spooning more food onto her plate. He had insisted that she looked too thin and needed to eat more. What had he eaten that night? What had Joan?
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Daniel and Joan did not eat much and often skipped meals. And when was the last time Daniel had a new shirt or Joan a new dress? Jain remembered Daniel’s shirt being new, years and years ago. He had been very pleased with it. So pleased was he that he had almost thrown out the old, threadbare one. But Joan had told him to keep it so that he would not have to go bare chested every washing day. Starving, dressed in rags, and living in a hovel, Daniel and Joan raised their children to think that they were as rich and comfortable as anyone else. And, after so many years of deprivation, Daniel was offered money for the only asset he had. He had turned it down and arranged a marriage with Jain’s happiness in mind.
Jain wept then. Eliza turned and grumbled in her sleep. Jain got out of bed, not wanting to keep her sister up.
“Is everything alright?” Joan whispered.
They walked into the main room where the fire burned low. Jain hugged her mother and sobbed. With the sense of a mother, Joan did not ask questions. She simply hugged and comforted her daughter. When Jain could speak she told Joan about it.
“Don’t be sad,” Joan said. “And don’t feel guilty. Your father and I love you. We love our family. Food and money come and go.” She framed Jain’s face in her hands and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “You and Eliza and the boys are all we care about.”
In the morning Jain insisted that her mother rest and relax while Jain made breakfast. Joan did not rest. She collected eggs from the henhouse and skimmed the cream off the milk that Daniel had gotten from the family cow the previous evening. Eliza tidied up the bedrooms and Airk went out to the fields to see if anything could be salvaged.
Airk did not eat much. He mostly talked about his family. Eliza began to speak a few times, but Joan shushed her. They let Airk speak, telling stories about his parents and his sisters. He said that he would have to go into town later to see how the augura was doing with his one remaining sister. He speculated about when she could come home. But he mostly talked about his younger brother. Eli had always been the mischievous one and Airk had resented him bitterly for it. Now he spoke of Eli’s pranks with a hint of longing and a lot of affection.
Jain wanted to cry as she listened, but she did not. If storytelling got Airk through his grief then she would let him do it all he wanted. Airk was in the middle of telling the story of the time Eli had somehow managed to replace ten egg yolks with water without their mother noticing until she tried to cook with them, when a knock at the door interrupted. “Open, in the name of Laird Tomkin!”
Airk rose and opened the door. Tomkin stood on the threshold. He had taken off his armor and now wore a simple tunic and trousers. A red sash across his chest announced his rank, along with the matched sword and dagger at his belt that were too fine for any peasant to afford. Two of his soldiers flanked him.
“My lord,” Airk said with a bow. “You are most welcome.”
Tomkin and the two men entered the cottage without bothering to wipe their heavy boots. The laird surveyed the cottage with disgusted indifference while the two men poked about. “I have come about the matter of your taxes,” Tomkin said. “Sit, and we will talk.”
Airk and Tomkin sat down at the table and the soldiers took up positions on either side of the laird. “How long has your family been on this land?” Tomkin asked.
Airk explained that his family had been there since before the establishment of the shire some five generations earlier. Airk’s ancestor had served under Tomkin’s ancestor in the campaign that had taken the land from the strange, twisted creatures that had once lived there. Since then Airk’s family had been yeomen, farmers who owned their small holding. They paid taxes to the laird in the form of a set number of bushels of wheat every year. This made them much wealthier than most of the village families, who only rented their land and who, no matter how much they paid in coin or crop, seemed to go farther into debt to their laird every year.
Tomkin and Airk discussed the arrangement at length, which seemed odd since Tomkin well knew the terms under which people in his shire lived. It did give Jain a better understanding of just how well her parents had done for her in arranging the marriage. Daniel had inherited his father’s debt and Daniel’s sons would inherit his. They could not leave the land without permission because the debt, grown with every bad harvest, bound them to the laird. This endless cycle of poverty meant that they were tied to whatever plots Tomkin gave them. The peasant plots were always big enough to barely support a family. Paying even part of the rent meant that the peasants had to scrape to get by and could never get ahead. Airk was free of that. His descendants would be, too.
“You and you,” Tomkin said, pointing to Joan and then Eliza. “Go home and . . .” He gestured vaguely. “Farm or something. You.” He pointed to Jain. “Stay.”
Joan gave Jain a worried look, but she and Eliza departed.
Tomkin stood and paced around the room. “Tell me, Master Airk, how do you plan to pay your taxes this year?”
Airk leaned back in his chair and blew out a long sigh. “I have no idea, my lord. The crops were ruined by the fire and it is too late in the season for another harvest. My parents did leave me some money.”
Tomkin clucked his tongue. “The arrangement is for wheat by the bushel. I’ve no interest in your money.”
“I understand, my lord.” Airk rubbed his forehead as he thought. “We do have some livestock.”
“No. My castle’s pens are filled to bursting.” Tomkin stopped at the side of the table nearest to where Jain stood. The laird placed his hands on the table and leaned forward so that he was almost face to face with Airk. “It would appear that you are in default.”
Airk opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. The muscles of his face clenched as if he suffered some great pain. Jain would have not have faulted him for openly weeping then. But Airk composed himself. “Can there be no arrangement, my lord?”
“Perhaps,” Tomkin said, pushing off the table. “You are the last of the yeoman in this shire. I suppose that might be worth preserving.” He turned to Jain and leered. “I could collect what is mine next year, if you give me something for my trouble.” He took a step toward Jain.
“My lord,” Airk said as he stood up. Both of Tomkin’s men drew their swords and pointed them at Airk. “She is not mine to give,” Airk explained desperately. “Our wedding is not for some months.”
Tomkin smirked. “Then you are not of much use to me, are you, peasant?” He reached out and fondled Jain’s breasts. Like all peasant women Jain had been taught not to resists the advances of a laird. He owned the land and everything on it and to resist his will was to be executed. Better to allow herself to be ravaged, even to risk birthing a bastard, than to risk her own torture and death. But Jain had killed a man the day before, killed him while her brothers stared in shock. Her nerves had not really recovered and she acted without thinking. She struck Tomkin. It was no slap, but a close-fisted blow that connected solidly with the laird’s nose. He took a step back as blood poured down the front of his shirt. “Hrnns!” he gurgled in a failed effort to say, “Guards!”
Both guards turned and Airk took the opportunity to flip the table. It landed on the foot of one of the guards. The other guard looked back at his fellow. Jain took the opportunity to kick the laird in the crook between his legs. As he crumpled, she grabbed the sword in his belt.
The guard who did not have his foot trapped under a table advanced on Jain and swung his sword. Jain tried to block, but Tomkin’s sword was heavy and it flew out of her hand when the guard’s blade hit it. Jain tried to back away and hit the wall.
Airk grabbed a cooking pot from beside the fire and flung it. The clang of metal on metal filled the cottage as the pot dented the guard’s helmet. Jain stepped sidewise and picked up the laird’s fallen sword in a two handed grip. She swung with the intent of decapitating the guard. About halfway through the swing she stumbled and the blade went high and connected with the guard’s helmet. The flat of the blade and not the edge connected. The guard, still reeling from the first hit, fell into a seated position. His sword slipped from his grasp and he made no move to pick it up.
The other guard managed to get his foot out from under the table. He took a step, howled in pain, and collapsed. Airk took his sword. “What do we do?”
Jain stood, shaking. What could they do? She had assaulted a laird and Airk had helped her. If they were lucky they would hang. More likely they would be tortured to death by the augura or perhaps by Tomkin’s personal augur. “We have to get away,” she finally said. “Far away.”
“Alright,” Airk said lamely. “Where do we go?”
“Anywhere!” Jain shouted suddenly. She took a few deep breaths. “We need to tie them up. Give us time to get away.”
“Right,” Airk said. He undid the sword belt of the guard with the broken foot and used it to bind the guard’s arms. Then he did the same with the other guard, who was too dazed to resist.
Tomkin had somewhat recovered, but with only his dagger and confronted by two swords he could do nothing but let them do what they would. Jain untied his sword belt and fastened it to her own waist.
“Never forget,” she told him as Airk trussed Tomkin up with a bit of rope. “Never forget that it was peasant girl who beat you.” She leaned in and whispered. “Shamed you.” And then she spat on him.
“We can’t take that sword,” Airk said. “Someone would recognize it.”
Jain looked at the sword. Its hilt was worked with jewels and the pommel shaped into a stylized lion’s head. She pushed the tip of the blade into a crack between the floorboards. Airk gave her a questioning look, but then helped her push it in further until the blade stood up on its own. Jain leaned on the hilt so that the blade bent.
“No!” Tomkin cried. And the blade snapped.
The dagger was of a similar, quite recognizable make. Jain tossed it into the fireplace and took the remaining guard’s sword. It was heavy in the scabbard and interfered with her balance, but she would get used to it. Airk quickly grabbed a change of clothes, some food, and his family’s money box, cleverly hidden behind one of the blankets on the wall.
Jain at first thought to take some of Airk’s sister’s clothes but she thought better of it and took Eli’s clothes instead. If she was going to be an outlaw she would have to wear something more practical than skirts. They helped themselves to the guards’ horses; the laird’s was too distinctive, and they rode off toward the wilds.
They agreed that they could not risk the main road. Airk knew of a deer track that would get them well away before Tomkin and his men could get themselves free. The track was a secret way used by peasants and outlaws trying to avoid the authorities. That was why they were both surprised when they overtook another rider.
Chapter 3
“Eduard?” Jain asked as they approached.
Eduard had drawn his sword and wheeled his mount when he heard them. He had a hunted look in his eye. “What are you two doing here?”
Jain opened her mouth, a lie already forming in her mind, when Airk said, “The same thing you are, I’d wager.”
Eduard tilted his head, curious, but not quite trusting. “What did you do?”
Airk nodded in Jain’s direction. “She gave our laird some trouble.”
“Oh,” Eduard lowered his sword as his gaze fixed on Jain. “What sort of trouble?”
“He tried to touch me,” she said, her stomach queasy at the thought. “I punched him.”
“Then she kicked him in the stones,” Airk added.
“Hah!” Eduard said. “Brilliant.”
“Then she broke his sword.” Airk wore a forlorn expression. “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
Eduard sheathed his sword. He regarded them both for a moment before he spoke. “I don’t know if believe it.”
Jain looked at Eduard. “What did you do?”
Eduard scratched the back of his neck. “Do you like venison?”
Jain shook her head. “I’ve never had it. We’re not allowed to . . . Oh.”
“It was a long time ago,” Eduard explained. “I’ve done a lot else since then.” He turned his horse back the way he had been going, away from the village and the danger it held. “Come on. There’s a place where we can hide.”
He led them deep into the woods. Jain shivered in the gathering dusk and Airk looked around apprehensively. Eduard slowed his horse and periodically nodded at trees, rocks, and other things that meant nothing to his companions. Just before full dark they rounded a particularly thick tangle of trees and bushes and founded a cottage built into the side of a hill. A number of windows gave off inviting orange light and by that light they saw a winding stone path to a heavy, oak door. That door opened and they saw the outline of a woman with her hands on her hips. The woman radiated authority despite her slender form and unexceptional height.
“Bringing home strays again, Eduard?”
“No, grandmother,” Eduard said, grateful that in the dim light the others could not see him blush. “These are friends.”
“Put your horses away in the stable,” the woman said. “I’ll put together a meal.”
“Grandmother?” Airk asked when the door closed.
Eduard swung down from the saddle and smiled. “Tomkin comes from a long line of nobles. You come from a line farmers. I come from a line of rogues.”
The interior of the cottage was divided into several rooms as Airk’s had been. Unlike Airk’s cottage, this one had a fine brass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, woven rugs on the floors, doors between the rooms, and a variety of other luxuries that neither Jain nor Airk had ever seen.
“Take off your boots,” Eduard’s grandmother said as the trio entered. There was a bench next to the front door where Airk and Eduard sat and began to remove their boots. Jain was barefoot, so she simply stood and stared. “No shoes, dear?” Eduard’s grandmother asked. “Perhaps we can find you some.” The old woman smiled. She had a mouth full of white teeth and her dark eyes seemed to glow.
The grandmother had white hair tied back and somewhat concealed under a headscarf. Despite her age she stood perfectly straight, moved easily, and carried herself with an obvious awareness of the womanly curves the years had not taken away. “Have you never seen an old woman?” she asked as Jain stared.
“Forgive me,” Jain said, looking away. “In the village . . .”
“Women past childbearing look like old rags,” the grandmother finished for her.
“Life in the woods agrees with you,” Airk observed. Something in his tone gave Jain a stab of jealousy, but she quickly recognized the courtesy for what it was.
“Freedom agrees with me,” the grandmother said. She shook her head. “Where are my manners? I am Coursa. For my sins, I’m Eduard’s grandmother.”
“I’m not that bad,” Eduard replied.
Coursa’s smile returned. “I didn’t say I regretted the sins.”
Airk blushed. Jain decided that she liked Coursa immensely.
“So what brings such upstanding young people to this place?” Coursa asked as she set three steaming mugs on the table.
Eduard explained what had happened. When he got to the part about Jain kicking Tomkin, Coursa laughed giddily and clapped her hands. “Good for you, dear girl,” Coursa said. “Tomkin’s grandfather tried to have his way with me. I gave him the same treatment. Let’s hope you kicked him harder than I kicked his grandfather. We could do with that line ending.”
Jain looked at Airk in wide-eyed shock. He only shrugged.
They ate a meal of roasted fowl and vegetables washed down with a finer ale than Jain had ever tasted. After they had cleaned up, Eduard announced that he was going to bed and leaving Coursa to regale the new arrivals with tales of her youth.
“Not so fast,” Coursa said sternly.
“Ah, yes,” Eduard guiltily replied. He reached under his shirt and produced a pouch the size of a man’s fist. He handed this to Coursa. She undid the drawstring that held it shut and counted out five gold coins the size of a cat’s paw on the table.
“Eduard,” Coursa said impatiently.
Eduard sighed. He turned to face the wall and reached into his pants. When he turned back around he held another pouch like the first. Coursa counted three more gold coins out of it.
Jain and Airk watched with bulging eyes. A gold coin, a henry, was worth twelve sils. Coursa could have bought anyone in the village with the money now sitting on the table. Jain looked up at Airk. “Have you ever seen so much money?”
“Yes,” he said distantly. “My family saved for three generations to make it.”
Coursa put four of the coins in a pouch and handed them back to Eduard. The rest . . . neither Jain nor Airk saw what happened to the other four coins. They were on the table and then they were not.
“Where did you get all that money?” Jain asked. “I’ve never seen so much.”
“I relieved an augur of it,” Eduard explained. “Grandmother learned that he kept most of his ‘donations’ in one pouch and the gold ‘donations’ in another. Since he hardly ever gets gold it probably took a few days for him to notice that it was gone.”
“You’ve done well,” Coursa said. “Now off to bed with you. I’ll entertain our guests.” She made tea and told Jain and Airk of the days when she was younger and had caught the eye of Laird Tomkin’s father. She had used her charms to relieve the young man of a number of valuables. When his father, Tomkin’s grandfather, found out, she had been captured and brought to him. He had offered to commute her death sentence in exchange for a bit of whatever virtue she had left. She had agreed, gone to his bedchamber willingly, and kneed him in the groin as soon as he was close and then struck him with a candelabra. Then she escaped out the window, carrying the candelabra and a few other trinkets with her.
The old laird might not have been so quick to lust for her had he known that she carried his grandchild, the half brother of laird Tomkin. Coursa laughed at the scandalized looks on both Jain and Airk’s faces. “Tomkin’s father was charming,” she explained. “I did not steal a thing from him. I only asked and he complied, so badly did he want me.” She frowned. “We might have had a life together, but . . .” she waved as if brushing aside a curtain.
“So Eduard is Tomkin’s nephew,” Airk said.
“Some of my grandchildren are,” Coursa said with a smile. “But not him. His mother is one of the children I had with my . . .” She paused. “I’ll call him my husband. He was with me for years. We had many children together.” She raised her eyebrows. “He was older than me. He died in his fortieth year.”
“You’ve managed well without him,” Airk observed, looking around the cottage.
Coursa told them other stories about herself and her children. She had raised a large brood and had outlived most of them. Old age was not the leading cause of death among thieves, rogues, and mercenaries. Those who had survived still tended her and she had a network of grandchildren and even a few great grandchildren who brought her information and stolen coin from all over the shire and beyond.
“And now that you know of me, of my family and what we do,” Coursa said when she had finished her stories. “Will you join us?”
Airk rubbed his stubbly chin. “I don’t see as we have much choice. We can’t go home.”
Jain shook her head. “I was a faithful peasant this morning. Now I’m an outlaw.”
“Yes, dear,” Coursa said, an edge creeping into her voice. “But are you my outlaw.”
Jain nodded. “You gave us food and shelter. You opened your home to us. You’ve earned our faith more than that bastard Tomkin ever did.”
Coursa smiled. She raised her hand and slowly lowered it. Jain and Airk looked behind them. Eduard stood very close, sheathing his dagger.
“You would have . . .” Jain began.
“Nothing personal, dear,” Coursa said. “We survive only by being careful. Eduard brought you. It was reckless, but I’m glad he did. Now rest. This morning I was just thinking about how badly I need an upstanding young couple for a little errand.”
Chapter 4
The errand lay to the south and west, in the city of Sorena. The distance was no more than a few days’ ride over fairly smooth country. The real trick was to cross the border between the loose federations of Lairds known as The Holdings and enter Sorena. That frontier represented not only another nation but another faith.
The religious affairs of The Holdings were overseen by the augurs, clerics who followed an elaborate pantheon of deities. Their worship involved sacrifice, occasionally human sacrifice, and a variety of other rituals to win their gods’ favor. Sorena and everything west of it had fallen under the sway of the Adaran shepherds. Adara had lived a few centuries before and had preached against the old gods. In the four western kingdoms of Genasi, Keston, Sorena, and Perimain the Adaran faith had flourished as one monarch after another was converted.
The inherently disorganized nature of The Holdings, where lairds routinely warred with one another and had not managed to agree on a king in centuries, had made it all but impossible for the Adaran Church to maintain any meaningful foothold. The Adarans had eventually stopped trying to win converts and instead switched to the tactic of encouraging the Adaran monarchs of Genasi and Sorena to invade The Holdings. But the Adaran kings had quickly fallen to fighting each other. The Holdings remained happily free, for the lairds’ and augurs’ definitions of “happy” and “free”. Adarans viewed anyone who was not an Adaran as something less than human. This made travel difficult for anyone wanting to enter Sorena from The Holdings. To cross into Adaran lands was to risk death at the hands of the shepherds.
Coursa needed emissaries who would seem respectable and unthreatening if she was going to do business in Sorena. Someone as clearly disreputable as Eduard would stand no chance of getting through. An illiterate peasant couple, with a few coins to ease their passage, would have a much better chance.
Coursa explained all this over dinner in her cabin. Eduard and another of Coursa’s grandsons named Grima would accompany Jain and Airk as far as the frontier. That way the couple could travel armed and leave their weapons behind before they met any Sorenian soldiers. Entering Sorena unarmed would make them seem like less of a threat. On the way there and back they would have the protection of their weapons as well as Eduard’s arms and cunning and the skills of Grima.
The next day they met Grima and Eduard sat with them as Coursa went over the plans in more detail. Grima had black hair and pale skin. The contrast made him look a bit ill at all times even though there was nothing else visibly wrong with him. He was an augur and his presence would discourage anyone harassing the expedition for fear of the hexes and ill favor of the gods that he might bring down. Jain’s gaze kept returning to Grima, though she willed it not to. His sickly visage did not appeal to her and neither did his harsh voice. Despite all that Grima had an allure, an unmistakable attraction that made Jain want to study his every move. Looking at him also took her mind off the discomfort of her new clothes. Eli’s tunic and baggy trousers and the boots Coursa had given her fit well enough. Jain had never worn such clothing before and it did not wear right yet.
For his part, Grima focused entirely on his grandmother, as did Eduard. Grima had magic, or at least the threat of magic, and Eduard had his blades and the skills to use them. They both deferred to the unarmed and apparently mundane old woman at the head of the table. Jain wondered what that meant, exactly. Was Coursa’s wisdom and cunning so great that she could control her army of grandchildren out of respect alone, or did this old woman hold some hidden power that made the brave shudder?
Coursa placed a drawing on the table. It was a rough charcoal sketch of something that looked like a bow across a heavy wooden block. “This is a picture of a crossbow,” she explained. “I don’t know how it works.” She shook her head. “No one does, really. They make them in Keston and rumor is that they are available in Sorena. It’s said that they shoot better than our hunting bows. Rumor has it that a bolt shot from one of these will slice through chainmail like it’s cheese. Laird Hadrid wants one . . . Badly.”
“What good is one crossbow?” Airk asked.
“He wants to copy it,” Coursa explained. “He wants an advantage over the other lairds.”
“Didn’t he have a feud with Tomkin?” Jain asked.
“They are sworn enemies,” Grima said in a harsh, slightly nasal voice. “He is my laird. When he expressed his interest I offered to see to it for him.”
“You have to get at least one crossbow,” Coursa said. “You have to bring it back intact and undamaged. You have to do this without the Adarans knowing. They will not want the followers of the old ones having such a weapon.”
“Can Jain and I discuss it alone?” Airk asked.
Coursa smiled warmly and said, “No.”
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