“Josiah, get the blankets.” Elkan’s voice was weary and dull. “Sar says it might drizzle tonight, but that can’t be helped. Make yourself a pallet under the trees and one for me here by the tent.”
“What? Why?” Josiah had never wanted his soft bed at home nearly as much as he yearned for the hard ground inside the tent now.
“Think about it, Josiah. As our prisoner, Kabos is our responsibility. We’re duty-bound to treat him as well as we’re able. If he sleeps in the tent I can unbind him. It’s not safe for you to share the tent with him. Sar and I will split the watch so each of us can get a little sleep.”
Josiah bit back a protest. It was no more than Kabos deserved to be forced to sleep outside in the rain all night, but he knew Elkan would never agree.
Instead, he crawled into the tent and set about gathering the blankets. He defiantly left only one thin blanket for their prisoner’s use. Arms full of cloth, he emerged, dumped half his burden beside the tent opening, and headed off toward the trees.
Elkan bent over Kabos, speaking to him in a low voice. The prisoner listened unresponsively, cold hard eyes fixed on the wizard, but when Elkan stooped to untie him, he made no move. Sar crowded close to Elkan’s side, and Elkan rested a cautious hand on his withers, but Kabos ducked into the tent without incident.
Elkan leaned heavily on the donkey. He pressed a hand to his forehead. Then he shook himself, pushed his hair back from his face, and gave Sar a firm pat. The donkey bent his head and lipped up a few stray blades of grass. Chewing thoughtfully, he positioned himself across the tent entrance. His eyes closed, and his head drooped. Elkan wrapped his cloak tight and paced around the clearing, settling into a pattern that led him in a loop around the tent.
Josiah watched him. He was reasonably warm snuggled within the blankets, and he’d found a patch of fallen pine needles that wasn’t too hard, but tired as he was, sleep eluded him. When Elkan’s circuit carried him close, Josiah said, “I could take a turn on watch. That way you and Sar could get more sleep.”
“No,” Elkan snapped. A bit more gently, he added, “It wouldn’t be safe. Just sleep. We’ve got a long way to go tomorrow.”
Eleven
Bodies crowded the room. Josiah shifted on the hard bench where he sat pressed between Elkan and the representative of the Knitters’ Guild, a heavyset woman named Jonina. The rest of the participants in the hearing ranged in an arc beyond her. Facing them, townspeople crammed the chairs reserved for spectators. Josiah squirmed beneath their avid gazes.
When they’d arrived in Tathorlith a week ago, they’d quickly become minor celebrities. It had been many months since anything of note had happened, and people were bored and hungry for scandal. The arrival of a wizard and familiar, accompanied by a bound prisoner, women and children, a herd of goats, and one weary and bedraggled apprentice, quickly set tongues wagging. Rumors, true and false, spread through the town, so that when the matter finally came to trial, far more people wished to witness the proceedings than Tathorlith’s Mother’s Hall could hold. A crowd ringed the building, the excited buzz of their voices floating in through the window.
Josiah rubbed a trickle of sweat from his neck. The morning was sunny and warm, beautiful late spring weather holding the promise of summer. Outside, down by the river that ran through the center of town or up on the wooded slopes that surrounded it, Josiah would have reveled in the warmth. But trapped here amid the press of bodies, in a room which would only grow hotter and closer as the day progressed, Josiah felt as if he might suffocate.
In the center of the arc of chairs and benches, Master Admon rose. He was the head of the town council and had hosted them in his home for the past week.
Admon waited while the babble of voices stilled. When at last he spoke, his quiet voice cut clearly through the silence. “We are gathered today to hear and make judgment in the matter of Kabos Farmerkin Farmer. I wish to welcome to Tathorlith Elkan Farmerkin Wizard, who will speak for the Mother in these proceedings.” He nodded at Elkan, who rose.
“Thank you, Master Admon, and people of Tathorlith, for your hospitality. Sardonyx and I will do our best to bear witness to the Mother’s truth.” Beside Elkan, Sar bobbed his head. He was squeezed into a cramped space between Elkan’s chair and the wall, but gave little sign of discomfort, only shifting his weight now and then with a soft stamp of a hoof.
Elkan sat down. Josiah studied him, concerned. Elkan had been exhausted when they arrived in Tathorlith, worn down from nights with little sleep and days spent constantly on alert. Kabos had cooperated without complaint until late the second night. Josiah had become complacent, and their prisoner must have thought Elkan and Sar had, too. Not long before dawn, as Sar plodded his patient circle around the camp, Kabos made his break, slipping under the far wall of the tent and creeping toward the trees. But he underestimated Sar’s sharp hearing. The donkey was at Elkan’s side in an instant, and the Mother’s golden power snatched Kabos back. Josiah had known nothing of the escape attempt until Kabos’ angry rants roused him from sleep.
After that it had been a battle of wills between Kabos and Elkan. The farmer abandoned his cooperative attitude and fought to break away dozens of times each day. He couldn’t hope to succeed, but he forced Elkan and Sar to spend their energy time and time again to keep him in line. He spoke as little as ever, but his challenging eyes taunted Elkan. Would they reach help in time, or would Kabos succeed in driving Elkan to exhaustion first?
Elkan won, but it was a near thing. When they reached Tathorlith, he was able to do little more than stare stubbornly at Kabos as he leaned heavily on Sar. He left it to Josiah to call for the Watch and explain what had happened. Only when two large watchers took Kabos by the arms and escorted him to the town’s jail did Elkan finally relax. He managed to hold himself together long enough to see them all safely settled in Admon’s house, the goats boarded with a local herder and the women and children placed in the charge of Yovela, Admon’s wife. But he collapsed into deep sleep the moment they were shown into the guest room.
Josiah knew Elkan needed several days of rest and food to restore his strength fully. He’d missed his usual Restday break. But it had been nearly a year since a wizard last visited Tathorlith, and there was the expected backlog of cases in desperate need of the Mother’s power. Elkan and Sar roused Josiah soon after dawn the next morning, and the three of them went to work.
Not until yesterday had they gotten a respite. Josiah appreciated the day of rest from the week’s labors as he never had before. Elkan was mostly recovered now, but there was still an edge of weariness that left him snappish and short-tempered.
Admon nodded to the watchers at either side of the courtroom door. “Bring in the prisoner.”
Kabos returned the stares of the crowd as a watcher led him to his seat. He wasn’t bound, but the watcher remained stationed behind his chair. Beside him, the Farmers’ Guild representative, Master Nadav, leaned over and murmured to him. Kabos nodded curtly.
Admon shuffled through his papers until he found the one he wanted. He scanned it briefly. “Master Kabos, you stand accused of assault against your wife, Master Sathea Farmerkin Knitter, your daughter, Nirel Knitterkin, and your son, Yarin Farmerkin. As the nearest community with a Council of Guildmasters on which your guild is represented, Tathorlith has the authority to hear this matter and make judgment. You’ve had the opportunity to meet with your guild representative?”
Kabos gave Nadav a cold glance and nodded.
Nadav rose, shaking his head in exasperation. “Master Admon, I’ve spoken with Master Kabos at length, but he refuses to cooperate with me. I’ll do my best to represent his interests, but he feels we’re biased against him and won’t grant him a fair hearing.”
Admon turned to Kabos. “Master Kabos, is this true?”
The farmer wouldn’t meet his eyes. Admon shrugged. “Believe what you wish. We’ll treat you fairly nevertheless.” He glanced again at his papers. “Wizard Elkan, you may
now present the evidence against the accused.”
Elkan rose, his hand on Sar’s back. “Unfortunately, we’re too far from where the events took place for the Mother’s power to show you what happened. But before we left Master Kabos’ farm, Sardonyx and I opened a window and investigated as far back as we could, approximately a year. We witnessed numerous instances of assault. As an additional witness, I asked Journeyman Meira Smithkin Miner to observe with us. She can confirm all I say.” He nodded toward Meira, halfway around the arc of participants. She looked up from Ravid, who slept in her lap, and inclined her head with a grim expression.
Admon made a note on his paper. “Very well. Please give us a complete account of all you saw.”
Josiah was close enough to see Elkan’s fingers tighten in Sar’s mane. “Yes, sir.”
He took a deep breath. “The first instance we were able to locate occurred near the beginning of last summer. While Kabos was out in the fields, a fox attacked a goat kid. Nirel discovered the injured kid and brought it home. Sathea tended its wounds, but they were severe, and near evening it died. When Kabos returned, he heard what had happened. He judged Nirel negligent in her care of the goats for allowing the attack to occur, and Sathea incompetent for allowing the kid to die. He decreed both must be punished. We witnessed him strike Sathea with a staff, and Nirel with a switch. The second incident occurred approximately one month later…”
Elkan’s quiet voice droned on, describing in neutral but damning detail what the Mother’s power had revealed. Josiah listened for a while, but gradually his righteous indignation faded and he felt only sick horror as the list of atrocities went on. He tuned out the wizard’s voice and looked around. Distress mirrored his own in the faces of the listening townspeople. Some of them glared with open hostility at Kabos, whose eyes remained fixed on the floor. Others looked with pity at Sathea and Nirel. Sathea sat, eyes closed, weary resignation on her face as she heard her life described. Her hand compulsively stroked the hair of the nursing Ilana. Nirel sat beside her, face white and hands clenched in her lap. She gazed at Elkan with loathing. Noticing Josiah looking at her, she transferred her bitter glare to him, and he flinched, looking away.
A murmur of horror went through the room when Elkan, his voice for once faltering, told how Kabos had raged and brutally beaten Sathea after Ilana’s birth. Sathea ducked her head even further, her grip on the baby tightening until Ilana squalled in protest. The crowd reacted again when Elkan related how, on Yarin’s third birthday, Kabos had declared the boy old enough to bear full responsibility for his behavior. After that, Yarin was disciplined with the same ruthlessness as his mother and elder sister.
Elkan’s testimony drew to a close with a description of the beating he and Josiah had interrupted. Josiah noted thankfully that Elkan glossed over Josiah’s role in provoking and discovering the punishment. He said only that Kabos had suspected Nirel of inappropriate intimacy with Josiah, and didn’t detail why the wizard’s party had returned to the farm.
Elkan finished speaking and fell silent. There was a long moment of hush.
Meira stood, shifting Ravid to her shoulder. “I concur with Wizard Elkan’s testimony. I watched it all happen just as he described.” She sat down again.
Admon nodded and shuffled his papers. “Do the guild representatives of the victims or the accused have anything to add? Any questions for Wizard Elkan?”
Next to Josiah, Jonina rose. “As representative of the Knitters’ Guild, to which Master Sathea belongs and Nirel and Ilana are kin, I’ve spoken with them and examined them. Master Sathea was reluctant to confide in me, but eventually consented to share her experiences, which match what Wizard Elkan has described. She showed me the physical evidence on her body of the accused’s assaults. Nirel wouldn’t speak to me, but I did see the scarring Wizard Elkan has testified to.”
A murmur of outrage ran through the room as she seated herself. Josiah wiped sweat from his forehead.
Admon wrote in his notes and looked at Nadav. The Farmers’ Guild representative rose, spreading his hands. “I’ve spoken with Master Kabos. He doesn’t deny the wizard’s account. He simply asserts that his actions were his right and responsibility as husband and father. Apparently such beliefs persist among the more isolated mountain folk, despite having been outlawed for centuries.”
Admon regarded Kabos as Nadav sat. “Is this true? You may speak in your own defense, if you wish.”
Kabos remained seated, not lifting his eyes. His voice was cold and bitter. “Why should I? I don’t expect any of you to understand our ways. My father taught me that well enough. By my own carelessness our private business was exposed to outsiders, and I’ll suffer the consequences of that mistake. My folk gave up any hope of acceptance or tolerance long ago and sought only to be left alone. But we know the results of exposure. I won’t waste my breath trying to defend myself to you. Do what you will.”
Nirel jumped to her feet. “You can’t just give in to them like that, Father! Tell them. You’ve only done what you’re supposed to.” She rounded on Master Admon. “You don’t expect him to ignore it when one of us does something bad, do you? He’s never punished me unless I deserved it. How else are we supposed to learn?” Her voice faltered. “Please, just leave my father alone and let us go home.”
Josiah shot up from his chair, unable to listen any longer. “So he can beat you again?” His voice was high and cracking in his outrage. “Why are you defending him? Don’t you want them to stop him from hurting you?”
She took a few steps toward him, her fists clenched, stopping only when one of the watchers stepped between them. “My father loves me, and I love him. Everything was fine until you came, you hateful, sneaking, lying traitor!”
She rushed at Josiah. The watcher grabbed her and held her until she quit fighting and subsided into angry tears. He escorted her back to her seat, where she aimed a glare of such anger at Josiah that he sank back into his chair, feeling as if she’d struck him.
Jonina rose, patting Josiah on the knee, and addressed the court. “Her father has made her believe his crimes against her are justified. What better evidence that she should be protected from him? By his actions he has forfeited his blood rights to his children. As Nirel and Ilana’s kinguild, the Knitters’ Guild recommends that they be formally removed from his care. The guild will assume responsibility for his share of their guardianship. Furthermore, as Sathea’s guild, the Knitters’ Guild recommends that the marriage bond between her and Kabos be severed. Master Sathea concurs with our judgment in these matters.” She looked pointedly at Sathea, who after a long moment gave a barely perceptible nod, never raising her eyes. Jonina sat with sigh.
Nadav rose and spoke. “As Yarin’s kinguild, the Farmers’ Guild concurs in this recommendation, and will assume responsibility for Yarin’s guardianship. Master Kabos is not willing to concur, however.” He looked questioningly at Kabos, who returned his gaze with a stony stare. Nadav turned to Admon with a shrug and wry quirk of an eyebrow, and seated himself.
Admon shuffled his papers some more. He turned to Jonina. “What arrangements have the guilds made for the care of the children and the dispensation of the property?”
This time Jonina didn’t rise. “Master Sathea tells me she hasn’t practiced her craft for trade for many years, only to fulfill her own family’s needs. Nevertheless, I’ve examined her work and consulted the guild’s records. Her skills are well within guild standards, her dues are current, and her masterwork was submitted and approved according to guild regulations at the end of her journeyman years, earning her mastery. I’ll locate a master willing to work with her to establish her trade here in Tathorlith, or somewhere else if she prefers. The Knitters’ and Farmers’ Guilds will grant her monthly stipends as our portion of the children’s guardianship until they each apprentice and the responsibility for them transfers to their own craft guilds.”
Nadav spoke up. “The farm was held by Sathea’s father and mother, both mast
er farmers. Kabos married Sathea when they were both journeymen, and Sathea’s father took him on. Upon Kabos gaining mastery, the three worked the farm in partnership for several years. When Sathea’s parents retired, they submitted their request to the Farmers’ Guild that the farm pass to Kabos. The guild approved this arrangement, and confirmed it following each of Sathea’s parents’ deaths. Master Kabos has worked the farm successfully since then, and always stayed current in his guild dues. The Farmers’ Guild recommends that he continue to hold the farm. But in light of his crimes, we would support a sentence of demotion to journeyman status for up to three years, and would provide a master to supervise him during that time. If any of the children apprentice to the Farmers’ Guild, the guild would consider them to hold first claim when it comes time to decide who will hold the farm after Kabos.”
Admon nodded. “That seems suitable.” He looked around. “Are all here in consensus that Master Kabos is guilty of the crimes he’s accused of?”
Nirel spoke into the silence. “I do not agree.”
“Heard and noted. Are there any others who object?”
The room was silent.
“The judgment of the Tathorlith Town Council is that the accused is found guilty. In addition to the three-year reduction in rank, I recommend that Kabos pay a fine, which will be divided between the Knitters’ and Farmers’ Guilds to defray the cost of caring for the children, and that he be confined in the jail here in Tathorlith for a term of two weeks. The marriage bond of Sathea and Kabos is hereby severed. His blood rights to his children are terminated. The Knitters’ and Farmers’ Guilds will assume responsibility for them as Masters Jonina and Nadav have described.’ He turned to Elkan. “Does the Mother concur?”
Elkan’s hand caressed Sar’s back. He nodded, weary. “The Mother sets her seal on this judgment.”
The Fuller's Apprentice (The Chronicles of Tevenar Book 1) Page 16
