Ghost in the Yew: Volume One of the Vesteal Series

by Blake Hausladen

  I had learned the difference between spring wheat and the other kind, winter wheat, in an earlier chapter. Spring wheat is planted in the spring and harvested in early autumn. Winter wheat is planted late in the summer and harvested early the next summer. Aderan planted both kinds.

  I frowned again. “A clever man could keep his churls busy all year if he chose his crops well.”

  He nodded.

  “But so many died this winter. How will the ones who are left get all the work done?”

  “No worries there for Harod. The prison fills every spring. It is the quality of the winter wheat crop that is keeping him up nights.”

  I knew about that from the book, too. The long cold winter would have killed most of the winter wheat planted the previous summer.

  “So the crop of spring wheat will be an important one.”

  “Every man here will soon be in the field every sunlit and moonlit hour.”

  “We’ll be all spring healing them, won’t we?”

  Avin nodded, and we didn’t talk much more about agriculture after that.

  33

  Arilas Barok Yentif

  Spring did not come anywhere near as fast as winter. The melting snow was replaced by more several times, but the mountain began to give up the brim of its white hat, the river swelled, and the trees at last began to sprout.

  It was with pleasure that I stood atop the keep on the first warm afternoon, enjoying the feel of the season, but also with growing impatience. All of my plans were ready but would go nowhere until my stipend arrived. Leger, Fana, and I reviewed it all again and again, but the effort resulted in no substantive changes. We were to the point of doing but were left still with only the waiting.

  Dia enjoyed the thaw more than most, riding each day and returning most times with a tale. We learned that of a small pond being turned into a lake by a family of beavers, and that the wide pasture along the west bank of the river was flooded. My favorite of her tales though, was of a lynx that had taken up residence in a tree atop the ridge. An explanation for the cat’s behavior escaped everyone until Thell suggested it had a family of raccoons or possums trapped inside.

  I expected Dia to return with another tale the next evening, but she did one better, returning with Sahin instead. He was a bit agitated from all the news of our winter, but Dia had done a fine job talking him though all that had happened. When worried, our bowyer sure could talk. To get free of him, I suggested we ride out to the yew the next day to see if Kyoden would give counsel. I had planned to do so anyway but was glad for an excuse that convinced him to call it a night.

  He didn’t waste any time, however, and had me out to the yew before the sun was up or my breakfast had settled. But he ended up just as disappointed as I. Kyoden wouldn’t show himself. I almost wished I had brought Leger—a little extra Zoviyan blood to stir up the ghosts—but I knew by the end of the morning bringing my alsman would not have worked either. All we managed to do was shiver while shouting out the names of dead people half the day. I did get a brief look at the wide swamp that ran north from the yew, a detail of Enhedu’s terrain I had not been aware of. On the far side of the tangled swamp, the land rose up onto a few bumpy ridges that culminated in an unimpressive peak. It was good to know that the only good way to the ancient forest was across the bridge. We rode back through the yew one more time but with the same result.

  It was the 7th of Spring when a great commotion woke me and I leapt up, grinning. I knew of only one thing that could cause such a stir. The moment I finally got a look at the riders from Bessradi—a sickly-looking tax collector to see the reeve and a broad-shouldered capital courier bearing my stipend—I knew that spring had finally come for Urnedi.

  Sahin was nervous for many reasons but comported himself well. For Leger, it was also an event of considerable anxiety as his alsman’s report was due to my father. Its brevity would raise eyebrows, but I agreed with its length. I had been banished, after all.

  * * *

  The first of Spring, 1195

  Vall, Lord Father and Exaltier of Zoviya

  Please let this serve as report of standing and movement of the blood for your royal offspring, Prince Barok Yentif.

  The Prince is in good health, his accommodations at Urnedi Manor adequate. He has been tutored each day as required. His province is in good order, all taxes collected, and his stipend received. He has not spoken of returning the Kaaryon, but this bondsman stands ready to notify you if you if any plan to defy banishment are uncovered.

  With all due respect and fealty

  Alsman Leger Mertone

  * * *

  The message was shown to Sahin without his asking to see it, though I was quite certain he would have waylaid the courier if Leger had refused to show it to him. The alsman was a bit uncomfortable handing it over, and while there was little yet between them I could call trust, the event was without enmity. I hoped the spring would see Leger drawn into the Chaukai’s number but made no further mention of it to Sahin. The Chaukai’s business was their own.

  Coin again in Urnedi’s coffers, I paid the staff, adding a healthy bonus of three silver standards for their hard work during the long winter. My original thought was to give each just a single standard, but after looking over everyone’s salaries, I thought better of it. The Dame’s girls earned just eleven standards each season, Urs just twenty-five. All the rest were much the same, only Fana and Gern topping that number. Leger was, of course, in a category to himself, his wage as alsman 700 standards per season. I considered cutting his pay but decided instead to give him the task of paying everyone and reviewing their salaries. Not having to do it myself made his almost worth paying, and strangely he was only too happy to do it.

  With that uncomfortable business behind me, I rode south the next morning with Leger, Gern, and Sahin. Our first stop was the timber camp operated by Kuren Pormes, arilas of Trace. Waiting for us there were the coins he paid for my timber. The raggedy case the foul-breathed overseer tossed across the table was filled with well-worn silver standards and half-pieces—not that I minded the smaller denominations. Full weight gold coins were as rare where we were going as they were in Enhedu. The money counted out to the right amount, so I signed his receipt, and we continued south without delay.

  There was still snow in places near the summit, but the road had already been cleared by the returning timbermen, so our descent was not delayed.

  Along the way, Leger and I looked for the pillaged Edonian mines. We found them everywhere along that road once we set our eyes to looking. The trees behind each level inward curve of the stone road concealed a gravel-packed trail up into a well-carved valley or the foreboding entrance to a mine. We thought to descend into one until Sahin described the bits of bone and rusted chains we would find. We stopped looking for them after that.

  We reached Almidi four days later, and I immediately began to worry the rustic little barge-stop had been crippled by the hard winter. If I could not find what I needed there, I would have to ride up the coast to Thanin.

  It turned out I was right about the harsh winter but wrong about what it meant. Almidi proved willing to sell me anything, even the pair of heavy wagons I’d doubted we could find. The farmer who sold them to me desperately needed the coins until he had a crop to bargain with. I hated the expense, but the 704 standards I paid was a better price than the 930 he had first asked.

  A dozen stops later, the wagons were filled with bolts of undyed wool, hides of tanned leather, tools enough to fill eight barrels, wax, salt, sugar, vinegar, rope, and every sheet of vellum and iron nail that could be found. The merchants were overjoyed to see us. The foodstuff was expensive, but everything else was easy to be had and at prices I liked.

  At each stop we let it be known we were hiring credentialed craftsmen, and by the time we arrived at the inn where we said we could be found, a small group of hopefuls had already gathered.

  The innkeeper was very happy with the crowd we brought him and let
us take over his large common room. Gern stayed with the wagon while Leger, Sahin, and I set up inside to hear their skills.

  I hoped to find a blacksmith, a carpenter, and a mason. But I could not afford to pay for their services in coin, nor was it likely I could convince anyone to come to Urnedi, build a shop, and then pay taxes in exchange for access to a market that did not yet exist. I had learned from my years of study, and again during the long winter, about another rarely used pledge of service that might convince a few to cross the mountains. The offer I would make was a very low wage, a plot of land, and a shop to be built on it, in exchange for a sweeping two-year pledge of labor and service. I was building a town, and the pledge would make them landowners in exchange for helping build it. For two years, their only income would be from the pledge. I could request any labor from them, and as long as I kept them fed, supplied, and equipped, all the output of their industries was mine.

  My worry that few would be willing proved unfounded. The size of the crowd of hopefuls only grew. Sahin had reservations about bringing so many strangers back, but we couldn’t ignore the opportunity we’d found. It was agreed we should take advantage, and we endeavored to sign any with a credentialed skill Urnedi could use.

  Sahin proved adept at interviewing them, asking questions about their families, tools, and even the names of the men who had trained them. Many who I would have been convinced were down-on-their-luck craftsmen turned out to have no wage-worthy skills at all. Sahin enjoyed the authority, so I let him run the room.

  Bringing back men who had no credentialed skill had not been part of the plan either, but Leger felt there were many strong backs in the crowd, and our plans could be further accelerated if we hired men who knew how to work timber. When he offered a former timber camp overseer nothing more than twelve seasons solid work, a tin two-penny per day, and food enough to fill his family’s bellies, the man could not sign fast enough. Leger promptly set the man to interviewing those from the crowd who claimed they also knew timber. The crowd of hopefuls swelled.

  My ledger filled with names, the pool of capable men dried, and the amount I was pledging began to mount. I was about to call an end to it when an angry man stomped into the tavern.

  “Are you Prince Barok?” he demanded.

  Leger and Sahin were up and in the man’s path instantly. “He is,” Leger said, “but your tone will change and you will give me your name, or I will throw you into the street.”

  The man huffed and set his hands on his hips. “I am Master Sevat O’Nropeel, a carriagemaker from Bessradi, and you will step back. My grievance will be heard.”

  “Speak it,” I said and gestured him toward a chair.

  He stayed standing. “The timber Enhedu sells Trace is cut badly and was barely worth the price I paid last season, much less the ridiculous price you are charging now. I have come to tell you I will not pay one penny more.”

  “Please have a seat, and we will discuss it in private.”

  He gave me a dark look but sat while Leger cleared everyone else out of the room. Sahin stayed close.

  “What will you do to satisfy me?” he asked with a more even tone, though his finger banged on the table between us.

  I sat back in my chair. I knew who Sevat’s customers were, as well as the price they paid for a lacquered and silver ornamented carriage. He charged almost as much for one of them as I earned from my timber contract. He was the very highest class of craftsman.

  “Will you let me speak a span so I can clear the air?” I asked him.

  He crossed his arms angrily but sat back into his seat.

  “You tell your grievance to the wrong man. I do not pick or cut the timber. The price Kuren pays for it is lower than you think, and I have made no effort to raise it. I assume you have already spoken to him. I also assume he blamed his prices on the timber contract between our provinces.”

  “He did.”

  “If I can satisfy your grievance, can we have a conversation in confidence?”

  “I have little interest in keeping any confidence with a banished prince, but if you can satisfy me, I will consider it.”

  His words stung me, and I wanted to cut his head from his shoulders, but there was very little left of my Yentif petulance. The desire subsided. No one in Bessradi, or the Kaaryon for that matter, would think differently of me. I was fortunate the Tracians did not care about or keep up with goings-on at the capital. Sevat had come a long way to defend his business, so I kept the topic there.

  “Kuren holds all rights to Enhedu’s timber for ninety weights a year.”

  “You lie,” he said, standing up out of his chair.

  “The prince does not,” Leger said calmly, pointing the man back down. “You bring a grievance and your emotions, so I will forgive your insults, but I remind you that you stand before a son of the Exaltier. Sit and curb your tongue, or I will be forced to cut it from your head.”

  The craftsman’s face twitched, and it took him a long while to calm down. Finally, he sat and said, “My apologies, Prince Barok. I should not have brought the anger from my audience with Kuren along with me. He claims, however, that his contract with you is for a hundred times that amount, so I know a lie belongs to someone. You can also understand why I have little reason to trust you.”

  “Is the document with us?” I asked my alsman.

  He brushed three words in the corner of the ledger page, “hire him” and “taxes,”’ before he opened his alsman’s case and handed the timber contract to Sevat. The man read it and began to shake with such rage he crumpled the sheet. Leger retrieved it before it could be further damaged, and I waited a second time for the man to cool.

  “Are we speaking in confidence?”

  “We are now.”

  “As you read, my contract with Kuren expires at year’s end. I will not be renewing it. What would it take for you to set up your business in Enhedu?”

  “Excuse me? Are you mad? What possible reason could I have to move my business to your desolate little province?”

  “You know the answer to your question, craftsman, though I am sure you have never considered it. If your concerns are quality and cost, which your grievance certainly makes them seem, what better place for you? The taxes I charge are a sliver of what you pay at the capital, and in addition to having direct control over the timber that is cut, you would only have to pay the labor costs of cutting it.”

  He grinned at that but straightened his face. “Bessradi is where I must be, Prince. Just coming here to talk to Kuren has taken me far afield. And you know who my customers are.”

  “Yes, and I know better than most men how picky they are. They demand quality. For someone like you who already has access to those customers, being able to find the best of the rare hardwoods outside your door would give you a sizable advantage over any of your competitors. What tax do you pay for access to Bessradi’s marketplace?”

  The man gave me a long look before he replied, “I pay your father 400 gold every spring and autumn for access to the Grand Mhedhil. I pay another 280 for access to the markets in Alsonvale and Alsonbrey. Nearly 2,000 weights of gold each year.”

  I had to cough to hide my surprise and increased the rate I had in mind to charge him. “For fifty weights you could sell your carriages anywhere in Enhedu you please. The challenge of getting your customers to buy your carriages from an Enhedu market is insignificant compared to what you would be saving and gaining.”

  He looked from my face to Leger’s and back again. “You are serious.”

  “Very,” I replied, adding, “I am heading back to Enhedu tomorrow with a number of credentialed men. I am sure you noticed the crowd around the inn. In exchange for a two-year pledge of service, I am giving each a plot of land and will be building for each a place to start his business. An unusual contract, I know, but a similar deal between you and I could certainly be had. You cannot commit to anything now, of course, but if you would like, I could hold a large plot aside while you consid
er my offer.”

  His face continued to bend as numbers cooked and churned inside his head. “How large a plot, and do you mean use or ownership?” he asked.

  “Ownership, and the plot can be as large as your needs demand. Go back to the capital and think it over while I get the men I have just signed established. If you are still interested later in the year, pay me a visit and we can discuss it further.”

  “Hmm,” was his only response, and he rose from his chair. He made the sound again, bowed twice, and strode out of the inn.

  “That was interesting,” I said to Leger.

  “Also dangerous. Taking a bite out of your father’s purse—”

  “A handful of gold in craftsman’s taxes is not a bite, Leger. Anyway, it is too late now. Did we want to interview the rest or should we call it done?”

  He moved to the window and peered out into the street. “I was ready to call it done a while ago. The ledger is already heavy with names. Let’s buy the rest a meal and get some sleep.”

  I nodded, and we did.

  We left the town the next morning with a mason, clothier, blacksmith, fisherman, three swineherds, four carpenters, six farmers, thirty-nine timbermen and the families, wagons, horses, and mules of the lot. My contract with each was slightly different, depending on their trade and what they brought with them, but all were for two years.

  The trip was more expensive than I had anticipated, costing me over twenty-six weights of gold.

  It was hard to think of it as a large sum. I was used to seeing such ledgers measured in gold weights, not in silver standards. What was easy to remember was that the day had used a tenth of my funds.

  As we traveled the coast road back up into the foothills of the Daavum Mountains, I was still very worried Kuren Pormes would complicate things for me, but taking care of his winter-ravaged province evidently had him too busy to take notice. I departed Trace without hearing from him.