Imperial Magic

by Alma T. C. Boykin

  The priest studied the page. "A form of illusion, although not a cast illusion. It is almost as strong as the notary spell."

  Count Mangus looked over his shoulder at Ewoud. "Your...associate's hand, perhaps?"

  Ewoud desperately wanted a drink, preferably a strong one. "It is possible, Your Excellency, if I understand my brother correctly. A mage with a strong secondary skill potential leaves traces of that in his primary. If I recall correctly, Your Excellency, good sirs."

  "You do," the north-man said.

  Meester Webeker looked from priest to mage to trader and back. "What is the complaint against this man?"

  "Not against him," Count Mangus corrected. "By him. He was sold all these as tamman. Only one is truly a tamman. Others are ovsta or similar, lesser hides."

  "Many were badly prepared, sir," Ewoud offered.

  The trader scowled. "I bought them as a bale under quality seal. I'm not a hide specialist, but woods. This seemed like a good way to earn more for a dower." Hisses and murmurs of sympathy rose from the audience. As high as dowry demands had risen in the past years, such an agreement made excellent business sense. Wood sold well but not quickly and did not fetch as high a price as fine furs. Ewoud recalled all too well his father's loud and frequent complaints about some of the dowries demanded by other merchant families.

  "Maarsdam permits trade so long as all know that their purchase is as claimed," the Great Traveler's priest reminded everyone. "That which is unfit for sale belongs to the Scavenger unless the market master wishes it burned as an example to others." The black clad, hooded priest standing behind him nodded.

  Meester Webeker considered the furs, the ambassador, and the priests. "Hear my ruling. The true tamman is to be sold as tamman, at luxury price. Those other hides of market quality are to be sold under their true kind, for quality price, since none are leb-leather." The stranger sagged, relief filling his eyes. At least he'd make a little something to help pay his debt. "Those hides unfit for sale go to the Scavenger for His use. There is no penalty to the seller so long as he abides by the ruling. Who witnesses?"

  "I witness," a journeyman cooper called.

  "Likewise," one of the smiths averred.

  The notary mage quickly wrote down the judgment, the witnesses and ambassador signed it, and Meester Webeker sealed it as acting market master. As they did, Ewoud sorted through the hides closest to him. Three of the ovsta met the basic quality demanded by the local tanner's confraternity, and he rolled them into neat bundles. If they did not sell by the end of the market, he'd place a bid on them. He owed Hanka's other victims repayment, and this might help ease the blot.

  "What are ye about?" the stranger asked after the officials had left.

  Ewoud touched the rolls. "These are ovsta. If no one buys them, I'll give you seven vlaat each for them at the end of the market today, should you wish to sell. They are well tanned."

  "Huh. I'll consider it." Ewoud bowed and got out of the way as the two priests and the trader went through the rest of the hides, removing those that belonged to the Scavenger.

  As he turned to go on his way, Ewoud found Count Mangus and his guard watching. "Come, please." Ewoud dutifully followed them back to the council building. Once inside the main door, the ambassador turned and folded his arms. "We of the north owe you a debt. You preserved the honor of our trade and tamman."

  Ewoud dared to shake his head. "No, Your Excellency. I failed to do what was right when I was in Kehlibar, and I need to repay the harm I allowed to be done. I am the one in debt to you, for vouching for my word to the trader and market master." He bowed to the two men.

  "I will not force a reward unwanted, Ewoud Truthspeaker. Thanks for your deed, and may your gods go with you." Ewoud bowed again and waited until Count Mangus and his guard had ascended the steps before he straightened up. As he did, he sensed someone watching and weighing him. He looked up the stairs.

  The emperor's great hunting cat stood on the first landing, staring at him. The cat's thick tail swished slowly back and forth, hypnotically. Ewoud inclined his body toward the feline and backed a little. The cat blinked once, turned, and disappeared.

  The cat's eyes seemed green. Or did they? Ewoud shook himself and retreated from the council building. He needed something to drink, and the wares-house seemed the best place to find it. He certainly did not intend to pay what Meester Ventris charged for small-beer!

  13

  Blood Debt and Poppets

  "And just what do you intend to do with these?" Ewoud's father inquired as he looked at the three ovsta pelts draped over the small table in the office.

  Ewoud had been wondering just that very thing. None of the tailors wanted it, because rumor had spread that the ovsta were fraud-bought and so cursed. Then an idea had struck, one so silly that he hesitated to say it aloud. "One would be to hold them until next fall, and sell them on novelty for ten vlaat each, perhaps more if the market will bear."

  "What have I said about inventory on speculation, son?"

  "Ah, that's my second idea, honored father. All the children I've heard in the market want poppets shaped like the great cats. This is light enough to shape easily, I think, and if you do this," Ewoud balled up a corner of the hide, where it was especially close trimmed. "Does it not look like the pelt of the great cats?"

  Tycho blinked and studied the fleece and leather. "It does indeed. And the texture is rather soft."

  "I believe that Mistress Garoostra knows of someone who could make these into cat-shaped poppets, and embroider on the eyes, noses, and blue collars. The cost per poppet would be high, but with port opening coming soon..." Ewoud knew the look in his father's eyes, and waited.

  "Do it," his father ordered.

  Later that morning, Ewoud presented himself at the residence of the captain of the Great Fir. A maid let him in, and took his cloak. "I'll keep this," he told her when she tried to take his bag. Ewoud followed the silent woman to where Mistress Garoostra, the captain's wife, waited in the household office. Models of ships decorated the room, and strange objects filled the shelves behind her. He bowed. The plump woman studied him, her hands busy with knitting. She dressed as befitted the wife of a prosperous captain, and he noted the embroidery on her dark blue and white dress, and on the hard-starched white headdress over her matron's cap. "Good morning, young master."

  "Good morning, Mistress Garoostra. I hope this day finds you well."

  "It does, well and intrigued by your request for an appointment. How are your honored parents?" A maid appeared in his peripheral vision and Ewoud stepped to the side, out of the way of the elderly woman carrying hot tea and small buns. She unfolded a chair and Ewoud sat, waiting as Mistress Garoostra accepted tea with a little honey.

  Ewoud took his plain, then answered. "They are well and send their greetings and hopes for good dealings."

  "And your brothers and sisters?"

  Ewoud sipped, wondering what spice was under the slightly bitter tea. "They are well also. I fear my father is already rejecting possible suitors for my youngest sister, even though she will not be courting for at least six more winters."

  Mistress Garoostra laughed. "As is my husband, I fear."

  "How fares your honored husband?"

  "Restless. He is a sea captain on land," she spread one hand in a gesture of resignation and mild impatience. "I will not say that he counts the days until port opening, but..."

  Ewoud smiled as well and nodded. Despite his father's protestations that he would never take a long trading journey again, Tycho too grew restless as the days grew longer. So did many of the older traders.

  Mistress Garoostra accepted a second cup of tea from the maid, then leaned forward and met Ewoud's eyes. "So. You come to me with a question about needlework?"

  He set his cup down. "Yes, honored Mistress. And about needle workers. Do you know of any needle women who can work with thin leather, hair on?" He opened the bag and removed a bit of the ovsta hide. She set her tea out of
the way and the maid took the hide, passing it to the matron.

  Mistress Garoostra studied the leather, bending it and pinching the folds. "Two. What sort of garment is to be made?"

  "Not a garment, honored mistress, but poppets, with embroidered eyes and noses. Or beads, but for a soft poppet?" He had no idea but recalled his mother and one of the maids sighing about beads and his younger siblings trying to eat them.

  The woman gave him a calculating look, then smiled a little. "A bargain, young Master Galnaar. I give you a name and recommendation. In exchange I get first refusal on the poppet, and I get any remaining scraps of hide." She lifted the hide. "This would make good trim for a set of cuffs and collar that I am currently making."

  "Agreed." He stood and they shook. The maid blinked but did not say anything. Why should she? Mistress Garoostra had citizen right in the city and had legal right to conduct needful business while her husband was away, as did all captain's wives, if the men had made such provision. Ewoud knew that Captain Garoostra had, because he'd watched his father witness the document at the council office. And he stayed on the opposite side of the desk, as propriety and manners demanded.

  "Widow Henkmar, Mistress Godkurt's sister, is the first person I recommend," Mistress Garoostra found a scrap of paper and a bit of pencil and wrote down the name. "She has a small workshop beside the sign of the Three Masts on Weaver Street. Tell her that I sent you. If she cannot help you, Goodwife Roncali of Master Enkerman's household does such work. She is a widowed stranger."

  "Ah, thank you, Mistress. I will do as you recommend." Ewoud took the scrap and the hide, putting both in his bag.

  "Maarsrodi be with you on your ways," the matron said.

  He bowed. "Donwah watch and bless the house and all who cross her waters."

  Once outside, he pulled his hood up and walked out of the patricians' district to the workers' neighborhoods near the docks. He caught a few hard looks and ignored them, but stayed alert. The usual anger among the workers toward the merchants had faded over the past year, but he'd dressed in plain clothes and his old boots for that reason. He'd also left his staff at the wares-house. The little drizzle misting down from the grey sky didn't quite dampen the streets, at least not more than their usual winter muddiness.

  Only a blind man could miss the Three Masts, since they were three worn-out masts from small fishing ships, Ewoud guessed. A sailor watched him go past, and Ewoud paused to salute the little statue of Donwah in a niche in the wall. He found a door with a carved needle and shears on it, and tapped, then opened the door. "Good marrow to you, gentle sir," a young woman in black with a white cap called. "How can we serve?"

  Ewoud came in and closed the door, blinking at the profusion of mage lights and oil lamps. "Ah, I need to speak with Widow Henkmar. Mistress Garoostra recommended her services."

  A curtain at the end of the room moved aside and a bent-over woman limped toward him. She wore an iron widow's chain and grey clothes, but well made with black embroidery. The widow stopped and peered up at him. Ewoud managed to hide his shock, but not easily. She looked younger than his mother. "I am Widow Henkmar."

  Ewoud bowed. "Mistress Garoostra sends greetings and recommended your services. Can you make this into poppets?" He opened the bag and removed the bit of hide. "The full hide is half again the size of a grown schaef."

  "May I?" He handed it to her. She studied the leather and the wool still attached, pinching it between her fingernails. "What shape of poppet?"

  "The great cats of the north-men, Mistress."

  She tipped her head to the side, confused, and her assistant called, "Like common cats, mistress, but the size of war dogs and fat-footed. Pure white, with dark eyes and pink noses. Some have blue collars."

  "I have not seen such, but a plump cat poppet?" Widow Henkmar worked the hide again in her hands. "Yes. How many?"

  "As many as three hides like this will make. All with dark eyes and pink noses, and a blue collar, Mistress. Um," he was a man, and it wasn't his place to advise her in her craft, but... "If you need to trim the wool closer, and to use it for stuffing, the cats have shortish fur, not long wool like a schaef."

  She sighed. "And I suppose you want these as soon as we can make them?"

  "Yes, Mistress."

  The woman looked down, then back up at him. "One vlaat each, plus ten for the design and embroidery. All of them so," she held her hands two-thirds of a foot apart, then brought them closer together. "And so thick."

  That was more than he'd planned to pay, but he certainly couldn't do the work himself. Ewoud ran the numbers. If they got ten poppets per hide, that was forty vlaat, plus twenty for the hides, so sixty invested. He'd need to sell them for at least three vlaat, probably four or five given the demand and the exotic ovsta hide. Yes. "Agreed, Mistress. I will leave this here, and come with the other two hides and the down payment later today." He extended his hand.

  She tapped his palm with hers. "Agreed. In three days I will have a test poppet for you to inspect."

  Ewoud returned to the wares-house, collected the three hides and some funds, making notes in the proper places in the ledger. By the time he got back to Widow Henkmar, she'd drawn out a rough pattern on a wax board. "Like so, young master?"

  It wasn't quite what he'd been thinking, but it did look like a seated cat. "Yes." She gave him a receipt and contract. He read the contract, making certain the he got any scraps back, and signed it. She cut the page in two. Each half had jagged, uneven edges. She put one in a stack on a shelf, and he rolled the other and slipped it into his bag. Then he trudged back to the wares-house.

  He found his father and an advokat waiting for him. Ewoud ran through a mental list as he bowed to the law-reader, trying to recall if he'd even looked at a young woman since he'd returned from Kehlibar. Which father was angry with him? He'd stared at that one, but she was a newly-arrived professional and every man looked at her, especially since she wore her skirts kilted up even in winter. Well, how else was she going to advertise? Could it have been Andrade's daughter? No, she was contracted and never went out without two chaperones, not after the scandal with Captain VanDeiman's daughter and the miller. Ewoud relaxed just a little as he straightened up from his bow.

  His father glowered. "It seems that Meester Dogald has returned from Kehlibar a little earlier than anticipated. I received a letter from him today." Tycho nodded to the black-clad advokat. "Advokat Junter."

  "Despite law to the contrary," the law-reader began, "Remko Dogald claims blood debt on you, and on your family, for the death of his journeyman. He is appealing to the Great Northern Emperor himself for justice, and is coming here to present his case."

  Tycho folded his arms. "He wants all our goods and coin."

  Ewoud boggled, then caught himself before his eyes opened so wide that his eyeballs fell out.

  The advokat squinted toward Ewoud, explaining, "Specifically, Meester Dogald claims that your harassment of his journeyman, one Hanka, led to Hanka's death and ruined Dogald's own trade season, damaging his credit in the free cities and Kehlibar, as well as costing him a higher dower for his daughter." The advokat read from a page, holding it almost to his nose. "As just recompense, he demands four hundred Kog and Ewoud's removal from all citizen and confraternity lists, and if possible for Ewoud Rhonarida to be named out-law."

  Once Ewoud got his breath back, he coughed. "Ah, perhaps I recall in error, Advokat Junter, but is that not rather excessive for blood-price for a journeyman without citizenship?"

  The law-reader blinked and peered toward Ewoud. "Yes, but first, Meester Dogald is claiming special conditions, and second, he states that Hanka is the natural child of a citizen of Marshburt, and thus should be counted as a citizen even though he fostered in Bushmakk and did not use an urban patronymic."

  "Sit, please Advokat Junter. You too, Ewoud." Ewoud waited until the older man settled into a chair before perching on a stool. His father picked up a wax board and started making a list. "I am ca
lling in a favor from Quinn in Marshburt to see if Hanka was indeed listed as an acknowledged natural son. If not..." All three men shrugged. Unless Hanka's father had held full citizen rights and had acknowledged Hanka on the temple rolls even though he was not born to a legal marriage, Hanka couldn't have claimed citizenship himself unless he earned it on his own. Ewoud didn't think Hanka was old enough to have done that, but in these times, who knew.

  Tycho coughed a little. "Second, Advokat Junter will look at the specific laws concerning blood debt claims and jurisdictions. Third, you are going to keep quiet, Ewoud, especially about his most Imperial Majesty's, ah, decision concerning your elevation." Tycho glanced at the law-reader. Junter missed the comment, or had ignored it, or so it seemed. "Since you are not yet a citizen in your own right, per the rolls, some of his claims do not apply."

  "Yes, honored father." Keeping quiet suited Ewoud as well as a fat schaef suited a butcher.

  The law-reader shifted in his seat and peered at the pages in his hand, going through several until he found what he sought. "Although I must look more closely into the laws, Meester Dogald's claim of harm against Hanka assumes that you, Ewoud, distracted Hanka from his task and caused his death in the same way as if he had been steering a ship and your actions led him to wreck."

  "What?" Ewoud blurted, almost falling off the stool. "Your pardon honored father, sir, but Meester Dogald is using sea law and saying that Hanka's breaking both vlee and Kehlibar laws is no different from failing to avoid rocks in the sea?"

  "In sum, yes," the advokat said. "And your actions on board ship and at the vlee led to that wreck. And, to continue the figure of speech, that Meester Dogald's goods were lost in the wreck and he is making salvage claim against you, not the salvers."

  Ewoud's head hurt. "Your pardon honored father, sir, but that makes little sense to me. I did not do anything to Hanka. A sailor hit him with the lantern, and I failed to inform the masters that Hanka was breaking vlee rules until the incident with the tamman. How could my non-action distract the helmsman?"