Scholars and Other Undesirables

  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.”

  “How much will you pay us?” Jain asked.

  “Four henries a piece,” Coursa replied. “Plus the cost of bribing your way into Sorena and buying the crossbow.”

  Four henries was four more than Daniel and Joan had ever seen or ever would see, Jain knew. Still, she suspected that for something as valuable as the crossbow she might be able to get a little more. As she contemplated her bargaining strategy, Airk spoke.

  “That’s a lot of coin,” he said.

  Jain looked at him with murder her in her eyes. Coursa looked from Jain to Airk, and then back again. The old woman’s eyes twinkled with mirth when Jain met her gaze.

  They set off in the morning. Jain was excited about the trip, but she was sad about leaving the cottage. It was the most comfortable place she had ever stayed and Coursa was like no other woman Jain had ever met. Jain did not know if she agreed with the way the old woman had lived and continued to live, but Coursa was free in a way that Jain had never been or even imagined being.

  Airk’s face was somber and he did not speak as they traveled.

  “You alright there?” Eduard asked.

  “Yeah,” Airk said. “This is all just a bit sudden. I haven’t even had a chance to mourn my parents and now I’m gallivanting off to Sorena.”

  “Might be better than way,” Eduard said sympatheticallty. “Give you a chance to take your mind off it.”

  “What I really want is my farm. I’d do just about anything to get it back.”

  Eduard nodded though he did not really understand. How could a man who had never owned or desired a farm see how losing one would be such a bad thing? “Well, stay with us and save your coin. Maybe you’ll be able to by another farm somewhere. This’ll just be something to tell all the kids you have about when they complain about how boring farming is.”

  “I never thought it was boring,” Airk replied, ending their conversation. He did not mean to be harsh or mean. Farming was all Airk knew, all he had ever wanted to know. Adventure held no real appeal for him and he certainly did not want to be a thief or in league with them. But he had cast his lot with Jain and now he had to follow that course whereever it went.

  The forest ended in a cluster of low, rocky hills. A few stunted trees grew there but it was mostly tall grass and the occasional thorn bush. “We’ve just cross into the Zohershire,” Eduard called as they rode up the hill.

  “We’re free!” Jain shouted. They were not, really. They were still peasants and rogues, but they were out of Tomkin’s reach and that was enough. She smiled at Airk. He smiled back but sadness weighed heavily in his eyes. Jain coaxed her horse a little closer to his. “I want you for my husband, Airk.”

  He nodded. “I want that, too.”

  She leaned slightly toward him. “I want you to be my husband, whether we’re married or not.”

  “You’re spending too much time with my grandmother,” Eduard said. He gave Jain an appraising look. “You’re getting to be like one of the family. Too bad the farmer over there won’t get with it. Hey! You’re a rogue now. It’s not so bad.”

  Airk took a deep breath as they reached the to
p of the hill. He looked around at the woodlands and farmlands stretching out and at the open sky overhead. At last his gaze came to rest on Jain, the woman he had chosen for a wife and who had accepted him. And then he smiled genuinely, a smile that reached his sad eyes. “It’s not bad at all.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Grima said over his shoulder. “Now can we please focus on our task?”

  “I’m sorry, Grima,” Eduard said, throwing a wink at Jain and Airk as he spoke. “Did our talking interrupt you staring at absolutely nothing?”

  Grima made a wet, rasping sound in the back of his throat as he urged his horse on.

  After a few hours they came within sight of a farm. Beyond the farm lay a village. It had stone walls twice as high as a man was tall and imposing towers in which archers could hide. The homes and shops of the villagers rested within the walls, safe in the event of attack by the Sorenians or whoever else might see fit to attack an unexceptional village in the middle of nowhere.

  “Zoher,” Eduard said. “The people are sullen, the ale is weak, and the women are cold.”

  “Then you won’t mind staying here while I go into town for the night,” Grima hissed. “Laird Colin is Tomkin’s ally,” Grima continued. “His guards may know of you. We cannot risk any of the three of you entering the town.”

  “What then?” Airk asked.

  “Make camp here,” Grima replied. “I’ll come back in the morning. If the laird’s men approach then bow politely and tell them you are on your way south to Hedronshire to work the autumn harvest. Do not get into any trouble.” He cracked his horse’s reins and rode off without waiting for an answer.

  “Pleasant fellow,” Jain said. “Not much like you or your grandmother.”

  “Never been,” Eduard replied. “Even when we were kids he was like that. Grandmother arranged for him to become an augur because he’s too glum to be anything else.” Eduard looked around. “There’s some trees over there. It’s not quite a forest, but it’ll have some wood and some shelter from the wind.”

  Airk and Eduard walked among the trees, picking up fallen limbs. Cutting a laird’s wood without permission was a hanging offense throughout The Holdings. Normally Eduard would not have cared but he knew that to start trouble was to risk the success of the errand. To risk the success of the errand was to risk his grandmother’s anger. After they had eaten, Eduard went through the wood pile and pulled out a few stout sticks about the same length as a sword. He handed one to Airk and one to Jain and kept one for himself. “Come on. You need to learn to use those swords.”

  Jain stood and looked at her stick. It was heavy and hard to balance when held at only one end. Eduard noticed her trouble and said, “Hold it straight up. Closer to your body, like this . . . There you go. Have a swing.” Jain and Airk both swung their sticks. Eduard smacked Airk on the arm. “Get your guard back up after you swing.” He walked them through the basics of swinging, blocking, and stance. When he had finished the lecture, Eduard asked Jain to step back so that he and Airk could spar.

  Airk took a stance like the one Eduard had shown him and they began to spar. Jain feared that Eduard would humiliate Airk and use the training as an excuse to give him a beating. Instead Eduard kept his swings so light that he barely touched Airk. Airk took his instruction quietly, but he was slow and had a tendency to swing and watch what happened instead of recovering his guard, moving his feet, or flowing into a second attack. Eduard told Jain it was her turn when Airk began to breath heavily.

  Jain felt her heartbeat in her ears. She had fought Tomkin and his men but she had never had time to think about it or to worry about what might happen. The men she had fought had always been taken off guard, not like Eduard who now had his weapon at the ready and stared intently as he awaited her attack. Jain hesitated and adjusted her grip. Eduard swung. Wood cracked against wood and Jain lost her right hand grip on her weapon. She managed to hold on with her left but her wrist twisted awkwardly and she could do no more than back away as Eduard swung again.

  “Good,” he said. “If you can’t block, move.” He swung a third time. Jain leaned back and let it go by before countering with a swing of her own, which Eduard blocked easily. He commended her on the recovery but chided her for her sloppy balance. Without balance, he explained, she would not be able to hit hard enough to seriously wound or kill an opponent. They continued to spar. Jain did well but she never seemed to swing hard enough.

  It was full dark before Eduard told her they needed to stop. He tossed his stick into the fire and grinned at the couple. “You’re too slow, Airk. And you don’t move your feet near enough. Jain moves pretty well, but she hits about as hard as a butterfly.” Eduard sat and held his hands up to the fire. “Between the two of you, you make one good swordsman. Not bad for your first day’s training.”

  “How long did it take you to learn?” Airk asked.

  Eduard chuckled. “About forever. I kept dropping my sword. Grandmother insisted I learn, though.”

  Jain sat down next to Airk and he put his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against him and inhaled the scent of his sweat. “I never thought I’d have a chance to learn,” she said.

  “I never thought I’d need to,” Airk replied.

  Grima returned in the morning. While in town he had learned that Laird Colin’s men patrolled the border but that they did so in a leisurely fashion and tended to stay very close to the village. In the past Sorenian raiders had tried to make off with livestock, but the land was too barren for them to have any real cover as they went. In the end it was just not worth the risk of winding up as an augur’s offering to the gods to steal cows and sheep. The Sorenian side of the border was also patrolled but not very heavily. There had been war between Sorena and Perimain, a country to the west as well as some trouble with Rephaim on the northern border of Sorena. The disorganized pagans to their east had become less of a concern for the Sorenians and their troop dispositions showed it.

  “Do not make trouble,” Grima ordered afterhe finishedhis report. “Bribe the soldiers if you have to. You are trying to escape our barbarian ways so that you may have a farm and a family in more civilized lands.”

  “Will they believe that?” Airk asked, his expression doubtful.

  “They will want to believe it,” Grima replied. “They are Adarans. They welcome converts and treat all other faiths as suspect. They barely tolerate the Satram wanderers.”

  Jain had heard of the Satram, a strange, nomadic people who traveled Adaran lands in caravans. The Satram were not allowed in The Holdings by order of the Council of Augurs. The Satram did not follow the Old Ones and the augurs claimed to fear the corruption they might bring to the people. But whispered rumors persisted among the peasants that what the augurs and the lairds really feared was that the Satram would tell stories of better living in Adaran lands and incite the peasants to leave or rebel. Despite the order a number of goods associated with the Satram found their way into homes and markets in The Holdings. Even poor Daniel had a knife of Perimain make, far superior to the blades made by any smith in The Holdings. Now Jain had a pretty good idea who brought the contraband in.

  “Buy the crossbow, don’t steal it,” Grima was saying. “Make no trouble of any kind. When you leave, do it at night and do it quietly. Being stopped on your way in will not cause trouble. If you are stopped on your way out, by Colin’s men or by Sorenians, then you will surely die.”

  “Where will we find the crossbow?” Airk asked. “We’ve never been to Sorena.”

  “Start at the market,” Grima replied. “If they can’t help you there, then find the thieves’ guild. Every city has one, usually in the bad part of town. Keep your wits about you if you deal with them and mention that grandmother sent you. She has no influence there but her name is known and it might help. Now bow your heads and I will bless you.” Jain and Airk both bowed their heads. Grima waved his hands
over them and said something neither of them understood. When he had finished he assured them both that they had the blessing of the god Corb and that he would look after them in their travels.

  Jain and Airk left their swords at the camp and rode west toward Sorena. The day was cool but not unpleasantly so, and Jain enjoyed the feeling of the wind in her long, fair hair. She caught Airk looking at her often and she smiled at him in a way that made him blush. They would have to spend at least one night in Sorena. One night in an inn, together, alone. Jain smiled anew as she thought of it.

  They could see for miles across the grassy landscape, though there was not much to see except more flat land stretching away in every direction. By and by something poked out of the ground ahead. As it drew nearer it grew visible as a tower made of stone, a watchtower. The stonework was finer and more precise than anything Jain or Airk had ever seen, and as they drew closer they saw that the top of the tower was actually a kind of roofed arch from which soldiers could look out but still have some protection from the elements.

  “Let’s try to go around,” Airk said. “I’d rather not meet any soldiers.”

  Jain looked to her left, then her right, and then back. They and the tower were the only things to be seen for miles. “Alright. But I’m sure they’ve seen us.”

  A short time later the doors at the base of the tower opened and four riders came out to meet Jain and Airk. The couple reigned in their horses and raised their right hands in greeting. Three of the Sorenians were soldiers in stud leather armor with swords belted to their hips. The fourth wore a white tunic with a black wheel emblem over the chest. A war hammer hung from his belt. Adarian shepherds took an oath to never draw blood. They could bash someone to death, but they could not draw blood.

  “What is your business here?” the shepherd asked. Sorena and The Holdings used the same language, though the Sorenian version had a gentler, more refined sound.

  “We were hoping to enter Sorena and find a place to settle, my lord,” Airk replied. “The Holdings have been attacked by Rephaim.”

  The shepherd nodded, making his jowls flap. The soldiers, sitting on their mounts behind him, looked around without interest. “We have had reports of the Rephaim moving east. By the grace of Adara, they have been defeated in the Genasi Valley and in Perimain. But how do I know that you come in good faith and not as spies or to spread the foul heresies of the gods of The Holdings?”

  “If Adara drives away the Rephaim then she is a greater being than ours,” Airk replied. “We come to you unarmed and in broad daylight.”

  “Have you any more ladylike clothes with you, young woman?” the shepherd asked.

  “I have a dress in the saddlebags,” Jain replied. “These clothes are more practical for traveling.”

  The shepherd nodded again. “As you have no weapons and I sense nothing ill about you, I shall allow you to pass. Young lady, you will dress in a more ladylike manner henceforth. Know, too that you will be noticed in Adaran lands. If you fail to embrace Adara or if you are found to be worshipping the heathen gods the punishment will be most severe.”

  “We thank you for your concern, shepherd,” Airk said. “Is there some token I might offer you to show my gratitude? We have some coin. It’s not much, but perhaps a few sils would benefit your church.”

  The shepherd waved dismissively. “Use your coins to buy a plow and seed. We will take our due from your harvest. Now be on your way. The soldiers of Sorena are brave and competent but it is still not wise to be out of doors after nightfall.”

  Airk thanked the shepherd again and he and Jain rode on. Beyond the tower lay a path beaten into the grass by the soldiers and their horses on the way back and forth to the city. Jain smiled as they rode. “That was easier than I thought.”

  “What have they to fear from us?” Airk asked. “We have no weapons and no magic. Unless you know something I don’t.”

  Jain shook her head and urged her horse on. The sun had nearly set by the time they reached a farm. Past it lay a cluster of buildings. Many of the buildings were two stories high, some even three. Even with such tall buildings the city was several times as wide as the village Airk and Jain were from. Airk called to one of the farmers and pointed to the buildings ahead. “Is there anything special we have to do to get into Sorena?”

  The farmer looked at the buildings down the road and then back at Airk. The farmer laughed. “Boy, that’s no more Sorena than I am the king. That’s Tovlar, our village. Sorena’s another day on by foot. Where are you from?”

  Jain smiled. “Someplace small. Is there an inn here?”

  “Not as such,” the farmer replied. “The chapel has rooms for weary travelers, though they won’t be happy to see a woman in trousers there.”

  “Maybe you’ll let me change in your stable?”

  The farmer allowed it when Airk offered him a few pennies. After Jain had changed, she and Airk rode into Tovlar. The found the chapel and explained that they had abandoned The Holdings for a new life in Sorena. The shepherd performed a ritual they did not understand that involved him pouring water over their heads. The chapel’s deacon prepared a meal and they ate while the shepherd told them about the ways of Adara.

  Adara’s followers never made sacrifices, shunned drunkenness, magic, and violence, and sought to bring others into the light of their church. Jain did not understand what any of this had to do with pants or anything else she wanted to wear but she chose not to make an issue of it. Instead she enjoyed the meal and thanked the shepherd when he showed them to their room. The accommodations consisted of a bed with a straw stuffed mattress and . . . that was all.

  Airk paced around the room. Jain sat down on the bed and took her boots off. He stopped and looked at her. His muscles were so tense that he trembled. Jain stood up and walked over to him. “Relax,” she whispered into his ear. “Before you hurt yourself.”

  “We’re not legally married,” Airk said.

  “We’re not legally anything,” Jain said, punctuating each word with a kiss on his neck. “Come to bed, husband.”

  “You’re sure you’re ready?” he gasped as she softly bit his neck.

  Jain ran her hand up under his shirt. Airk’s lean torso rippled with muscles earned from a life spent working in the fields. The supple feel of his flesh, the curves of his muscles, and the way his breath quickened as she touched him all felt very new but very right to Jain. This was how a man was supposed to feel, Jain decided. She gently massaged his chest and stomach, and worked her hand lower. “I’m starting to wonder if you ever will be.” She leaned back a little as she spoke and caught his eye. The look there, the desperate longing, made her gasp. She smiled and led her husband to bed.

  They set out early the next morning and at around midday they saw a great wall of yellow stone in the distance. Towers studded the wall. Airk stopped his horse and Jain did the same. “What is it?” she asked.

  “I did not know men could build something like that,” Airk replied. “How did they get the stones up there?”

  Jain looked at the wall. It was at least twenty-five feet high and the towers reached higher. “Maybe they had a giant help them. Let’s go and have a closer look.”

  They followed the road to the city gate. The gate was wide enough for a horse cart to enter and another to leave at the same time. Jain and Airk knew this because it was what was happening when they arrived. Guards stood on either side of the gate. Each held a pike in his right hand and each watched the crowd without interest. A number of people stood outside the gate. Some begged while others tried to sell various wares. None of them were selling crossbows.

  Jain and Airk dismounted their horses and entered the city, leading the animals. The buildings seemed to brush the sky, as if everything had been carved out of the living rock of some great winding canyon. But many of the buildings were made of wood and even the stone buildings were of all different co
lors. It took Jain and Airk some time to determine that the stone must have been brought from elsewhere in a massive undertaking.

  No less varied than the stones were the people. In The Holdings some people had blond hair and some had dark. Everyone was about the same height, shape, and color. In Sorena, dark southerners jostled pale northerners in the crowds. Stranger still were the people with narrow eyes and bright red hair. There were those with skin the color of ink and straight, white hair and those with white skin and ink black hair, like Grima but not so sickly in appearance. And none of these people seemed surprised to see the others.

  Jain looked at Airk to see what he was thinking. He was gone. They had lost each other in the crowd. Panic seized her. She was alone in a vast city, far from home. Jain climbed up onto her horse to get a better view. The crowd on the main avenue was thick and many other people led horses. Neither Airk nor his horse were terribly big or distinctive, and Jain realized at once that her chances of finding them were slim.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a man as he passed by. He did not seem to notice. Jain repeated herself to a few other strangers who also ignored her. She finally climbed down from the horses and grabbed the sleeve of the first person to walk past. He was a giant of a man, well past six feet tall, with dark brown skin. The sides of his head were shaved so that his only hair was a fierce red crest like that of a rooster. Jain wondered if he was a man or some kind of ogre.

  It took her a moment to think of a question to ask. The man could not possibly know Airk, nor Airk’s horse. Jain realized that it would be easier to search for her husband if she did not have to deal with her horse. It was a fine beast, but it would be a liability on the crowded avenue. “Do you know a stable nearby, someplace where I can board my horse?”

  Two more red-crested brown giants had stopped next to the one Jain had stopped. She felt very small and wondered what sort of land made men of such stature. The one whose sleeve she held said something in a language Jain did not know. One of his companions said, “What?”

  Jain repeated the question and he directed her to a stable off the avenue. Jain thanked them and went on her way. The stable was where the man had said it would be. It squatted amid the taller buildings like a toad between two peacocks, but it was clean and all of the horses seemed to have decent feed and water. A stout, paunchy man sat at a desk amid the stalls.

  “Need a place for your horse, mistress?” he asked. He nodded to the horse. “That’s a horse from The Holdings, that is. Fine, friendly animals. Not as temperamental as Perimains, not stupid like Kestons. I hadn’t seen one in years before today.” He furrowed his brow. “This makes two today.”

  “Who had the other one?”

  “Young fellow. He only had Holdings money. He went off to the money changer.”

  Jain nodded. She chatted with the stable keeper about horses and different kinds of money. In Sorena, gold coins were called “sors”, silver were “dems” and copper coins were “coppers”. The weights were all different and different people had all manner of theories about the quality of metals used, so the coins were not directly interchangeable. Jain did not really understand it all, but it passed the time until Airk came back from the money changer with more copper and less gold than he had gone with. They stabled their horses and got directions to an inn.

  The innkeeper gave them a room on the fourth floor, the highest up either of them had been. The accommodations were simple but quite comfortable. As darkness settled, they tried to go to bed. A curious thing happened: the rest of the city stayed awake. When the sun went down, lanterns flared to life and people continued to talk and go about various errands on the avenue below. Somewhere music played while somewhere else there was a heated argument. Airk grumbled and tossed. Jain got out of bed and went to the room’s one window, which looked out over the avenue. She stayed there for a very long time and watched the collage of humanity that moved through the Sorenian night.

  The Holdings had only one city to speak of, the City of Books. The Academy was there, and the Council of Lairds as well as well as the Council of Augurs met there. Jain had never been there and seldom thought about it. What good was a city full of books to a farmer? Now she wondered about it, wondered if it was anything like this.

  The next morning Jain and Airk followed the avenue to a place where the great buildings gave way to covered stalls. “You could do with some new threads,” a man called to Airk. “Come on over. I’ll fix you up better than the prince of Kargan.”

  Airk stared strangely at the man, a dandy in a purple feathered cap that matched his vest and trousers. He and Jain moved on. “Oranges,” one vendor cried, “Cures all ailments of man and beast.” “Pickles,” another one hawked, “Old family recipe.”

  “How does anybody find anything here?” Airk asked.

  “What?” Jain replied over the noise.

  Airk shook his head. They passed vendors selling dogs, horses, and chickens. They smelled the aromas of spices, fish, and perfumes. They saw clothing of wool, leather, and a substance neither of them had ever seen called “cotton.” Jain paused here and there to look at things and Airk gently but firmly urged her on. They eventually found a stall where a scarred man had swords on display.

  “A blade for you, sir?” the man said. “These blades come all the way from the deserts of Zand. They are the finest blades in the world.”

  Jain stepped forward and admired the swords. Some of the blades curved weirdly while others were straight. Some had jewels set in their pommels and many had fanciful decorations etched into their blades. All looked strong and sharp.

  “I don’t need a sword,” Airk explained. “But you might sell me a crossbow.”

  The scarred man pointed. “You might try the bowyer’s stall, over there.”

  The bowyer had bows too small for anything but children’s toys, stout hunting bows, and bows so big that it would have taken one of the red-haired giants Jain had met on the avenue to use them. “What do you need?” the bowyer asked. “A nice hunting bow? Maybe a heavy war bow for militia duty?”

  “Actually, I was looking for a crossbow,” Airk said.

  The bowyer nodded. “I’ve never liked those things, but I happen to have a few.” He reached into a box in the stall and pulled out two crossbows and set them on the table. Then he reached back into the box and pulled out two more. Jain could have held the smallest crossbow in one hand. The largest would be almost too big for Airk to handle.

  “Which one’s the best?” Jain asked.

  The bowyer arched his eyebrows and looked at Airk. “Feisty one you have there.”

  Airk looked at Jain and then back at the bowyer. “You have no idea. So which one of these is the best?”

  The bowyer looked over the selection. “Depends on your needs. The little hand crossbow is good for shooting small game but you won’t stop a man with it. The big one is the most powerful, but it’s not the best made.”

  “What do you mean?” Airk asked. “What’s wrong with it?”

  The bowyer picked up the heaviest crossbow and pointed to the bow portion. “The curve is crude. The weapon gets all of its strength from its size.” He set the heavy crossbow down and picked up the one next to it. “Now look at this. The bow is recurved, like a high quality hunting bow. You’ll also notice that the handle is carefully carved for a better grip.” He handed the crossbow to Airk, who held it awkwardly for a moment before sighting along the stock.

  Airk bought the crossbow and small pouch of bolts, miniature arrows that fit the crossbow. Jain watched the exchange with interest. It was only a few days ride to her home village, but there this item would be considered exotic, contraband even. In Sorena it was openly sold in the marketplace.

  Jain wanted to stay and see more of the marketplace but Airk reminded her that Grima and Eduard were waiting for them. They paid the stable man for boarding their horses and left Sorena
before noon. The journey home seemed to go a great deal faster than the journey there, mostly because they now knew the way. They could not stay in Tovlar again; the shepherd there would be suspicious, so they rode on through the night and were back at the frontier at dawn.

  “Do we try to cross now?” Jain asked. “We’d be seen.”

  Airk cringed. “Not much cover here. I’m afraid if we make camp it’ll draw attention. Let’s go north. We can make a wide circle around that tower.”

  They turned north and rode across the empty landscape until they saw another tower off in the distance. When they did, they turned back to the east and pushed their tired mounts as hard as they dared. Neither of them had any idea what might happen if they were caught trying to reenter The Holdings. They did not find out. The morning passed uneventfully and by midday they were in sight of the hills that marked the border between Zohershire and their home county Lusshire.

  They made camp by a creek where they refilled their water skins and let the horses drink their fill. Airk paced about nervously. They had only the crossbow, a weapon neither of them knew how to use, and they were in a country troubled by Rephaim, goblins, and bandits. “Do you think you can find our way back to the cottage?” he finally asked. “I don’t remember the way.”

  Jain pursed her lips. Traveling through the forest would be tricky. One wrong turn and they would be lost or worse, back in the village where Laird Tomkin’s men would surely find them. She shook her head. “We need to find Grima and Eduard.”

  “Find them you have,” a voice from behind her said. She and Airk both jumped as Eduard and Grima walked their horses down from the nearest hill. Eduard was smiling. “You two talk so loudly, we could have found you in the dark.”

  “How did you know we’d be here?” Jain asked.

  “It wasn’t that hard,” Grima snapped. “You had to go between towers and that meant you would come to these hills. Do you have the crossbow?”

  Airk opened his horse’s saddlebag and pulled the crossbow out.

  “Put it away,” Grima hissed. “We can’t be seen with it.”

  “Let’s get back to the cottage,” Eduard said apologetically. “Before my cousin hurts himself.”

  Jain and Airk mounted their horses and followed the cousins back through the forest to Coursa’s cottage. Dusk was gathering when they arrived, and Jain smiled at the inviting light from the windows. The breeze shifted and she caught a whiff of Coursa’s cooking. Her stomach rumbled.

  “Do you have it?” Coursa asked as they sat around her table. Another woman, perhaps another one of Coursa’s grandchildren, brought them each a bowl of hearty stew and a mug of heartier ale.

  Airk had brought the bag in with him and he placed the crossbow and its bolts on the table.

  “Maginificent,” Coursa said. “Well done, all of you. You will be paid the promised price, but I’m afraid I have troubling news. Laird Tomkin told everyone that it was Hadrid’s men who attacked him on your farm, Airk.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Grima objected. “Hadrid would have had Tomkin killed, not embarrassed.”

  “I wish that had been Tomkin’s fate,” Coursa said. “I really do. He used it as an excuse to attack Hadrid. Hadrid’s dead.”

  “What?” Grima’s voice rose to a grating rasp.

  “I’m sorry, Gree,” Coursa said.

  Jain mouthed, “Gree?” to Airk. He shook his head.

  “Who’s the laird now?” Eduard asked.

  “Tomkin’s brother, Edvis.” Coursa reached out and put her hand on Grima’s shoulder. “You can stay here as long as you need to, Gree.”

  He nodded, his expression pained. “Thank you, grandmother.”

  Jain thought about the implications of Tomkin’s brother’s ascension. There were twenty or so shires in the Holdings. No laird ever controlled more than one at a time. To do so would be to invite the other lairds to gather their full strength and attack to keep the upstart from gaining too much power. Tomkin’s family had found a way around that. At least eight of the shires were controlled by Tomkin’s brothers, nephews, or cousins. With the fall of Hadrid that number had risen to nine. Perhaps The Holdings would have one king after all, though the prospect of Tomkin’s rule seemed too horrible to contemplate.

  “So no henries,” Airk said.

  “Airk!” Jain snapped. “They’ve got other things to worry about.”

  “You will be paid what you were promised,” Coursa said in a soothing tone. “It’s only fair. Jain, there is something you need to know. Tomkin called up the men of his holding when he attacked Hadrid. Your father was with them.”

  “No!” Jain gasped.

  “He is alive,” Coursa said quickly. “He was wounded. An arrow took him in the stomach. He had no armor. He rests at home now. He could do with medicine, which I will give you if you wish to take it to him.”

  “That’s too dangerous,” Airk said. “Tomkin’s men will be looking for us.”

  “I have to see him, Airk,” Jain said. “I’ll go alone. The cottage is by the woods. No one will see me.”

  Coursa nodded approvingly. “I will give you the medicine. When you return, I’ll have another job for you.”