Heroes' Reward

by Moira J. Moore

  The throne was empty, as was the chair beside it. Green was standing on the floor in the centre of the room. I would wager that infuriated her. It would be perceived by everyone as a reduction of status.

  There were only three people seated in the rows in which the members of the Council normally sat. Two, I didn’t know, and one was Ogawa. Who despised Taro and I and probably, by extension, Aryne. Ogawa was one person who would rule against us, no matter what Aryne did.

  Not that I should have expected objective arbitrators.

  Firen was also standing on the floor, Natson beside him. “If Lady Aryne’s party would gather there,” he said, directing us to stand on the floor immediately before where the spectators sat. “If Lady Aryne would join us here.”

  I didn’t like Aryne getting so close to him.

  Firen gestured at the three abitrators. “This is Lady Ovan, Trader Levor Thax, and Shield Miho Ogawa. They will assess the quality of the performance of the contenders.”

  The thing was, the original code didn’t require that any part of it be performed well. All that really mattered was that the heir knew the code and could actually do, to some extent, each task. This competition had demanded some adjustments.

  I suddenly wondered if the changes had rendered the whole thing illegal.

  “This competition is to determine whether Lady Green or Lady Aryne should ascend to the throne,” Firen declared.

  Ah, gods, was there going to be a speech?

  “Despite a thorough search, we have been unable to find any documentation in which His Imperial Majesty named any heir, and no credible witness has come forward to relay any conversation in which His Imperial Majesty spoke of such matters.”

  No credible witness. Interesting choice of words. It suggested to me that someone had come forward but had been dismissed. By Firen?

  He had somehow taken control of this whole matter and chosen to give Aryne a chance. Why?

  Well, Aryne was only eighteen. She had no experience in navigating the Imperial court, no experience with politics or shaping law. He probably thought her uncivilised and uneducated. He probably assumed that, if she were crowned, she would be easily managed.

  He was in for a shock.

  “We will all bear witness to this competition, so that the truth will be properly passed on to all people throughout the world and to the generations who will follow us.”

  I found it interesting, sometimes, how people threw the term world around. Half the world had no idea what was going on in Erstwhile and wouldn’t care if they did.

  “The competition will be executed over the course of the next three days. If one contender interferes with the other, they forfeit. The contenders are to be granted access to any materials within the city, with exceptions you are both aware of if you truly know the code. Failure to perform a task will result in forfeiting the code. Once the triumphant party is declared, any attempt by the losing party to harm or displace her will be considered treasonous and appropriate consequences will be delivered.” He bowed to Aryne. “Lady Aryne, what is the first task?” Aryne, clearly surprised, hesitated. “You claim to know the code. Please demonstrate this is true.”

  Aryne composed herself and nodded. “The first task is to prepare soup.”

  Aryne’s accent was perfectly aristocratic, with that slight extra roll to the ‘r’s. It wasn’t logical, but just that factor would go far in convincing many that she was much more intelligent than had been assumed.

  The act of preparing soup symbolised the sovereign’s ability to provide sustenance to her people in times of want. When I’d first heard that, I thought it was funny. Then I wondered why I thought it was funny. Why shouldn’t a sovereign be able to cook?

  Still, had Gifford cooked soup? Really? I just couldn’t imagine it.

  As enormous as the royal kitchen was, it couldn’t accommodate everyone. Firen chose ten witnesses to accompany the rest of us to the long, hot room. Aryne and Green picked their way through various meats, vegetables, and spices, choosing what they needed and splitting off to work on separate tables.

  Watching people cook wasn’t diverting, even when the results were so important. It was interesting, how one could feel bored and anxious at the same time.

  Aryne could cook. She’d been taught for this very reason. Her disadvantage was that she had a hard time balancing the ingredients most commonly used in our part of the world. Her palate had been defined by the diet common to Flatwell, a diet very different from ours.

  She just couldn’t get things quite right.

  Maybe the arbitrators would have more sophisticated tastes than the average resident of the northern continent.

  Aryne looked comfortable with what she was doing, neatly slicing vegetables, easily sprinkling in pepper, managing the stove.

  Unfortunately, Aryne’s soup took considerably less time to prepare than the heavy creamy dish Green was creating with strong spices and thick chunks of beef. This meant Aryne had to alternate between leaving the soup on the stove to keep it hot and taking it off the stove to prevent it from being overcooked. The elements of the soup seemed to separate after a while of this.

  I wondered if Green had suspected this would be the case and had chosen a recipe that demanded longer preparation just for this reason.

  No. I kept thinking Green was some unnatural genius, that she could predict every possibility. She couldn’t. I was sure she had never imagined finding herself performing the code in competition with another potential heir. Cooking soup.

  I could predict the winner of this task, though. The grimace of distaste from each judge after sampling Aryne’s soup looked instantaneous and genuine. Their pleasure with Green’s dish was obvious to everyone.

  Firen didn’t even pause before announcing, “Lady Green triumphs.”

  Green didn’t appear surprised. She’d probably been dead certain of her success.

  Aryne didn’t look disheartened by her loss. Good girl.

  “Lady Green,” said Firen. “If you would inform us of the next task.”

  Hah. I’d wager she didn’t like being challenged in that manner.

  She didn’t display any irritation, though. “Shoeing a horse.”

  To demonstrate knowledge of the care needed to protect an asset essential to the management of the whole Empire, from farming to construction to travel to entertainment.

  Firen nodded. “Thank you, Lady Green. The contenders may go. You are expected at the Flying Horse smithy.”

  The contenders, the arbitrators, the Commissioner, Browne, Murdoch, the Premier Pair, Taro and I, and a bunch of Green’s people paraded through the city. On the way, we joined by many of the soldiers who had been left behind outside the palace as well as Imperial Guards.

  Two poor horses had been chosen for this test. I’d never shoed a horse but I’d been unfortunate enough to witness an idiot drive a nail into the frog of a horse’s hoof. It had been a horrible thing to see, to hear, and I’d never be able to get that event out of my head.

  Green was quick to choose her horse and lead it to the other end of the structure.

  There were a variety of horse shoes already prepared and displayed on two tables. Different sizes, different shapes, different weights. Aryne examined the horse that had been left to her, running her hands over it, taking a look at the feet. “What does this horse do?” she asked the farrier.

  “Hauls stones for building dikes,” the farrier answered.

  Aryne nodded and picked out a heavy shoe with a reinforced toe, putting it to one side of the table. She took from pegs on the wall leather trousers, gauntlets, and an apron, quickly donning them. She picked up a pair of pincers and leaned down to pull up the horse’s left foreleg.

  “That’s the wrong shoe!” the farrier snapped out.

  At first I thought the farrier was addressing Aryne, but no, she was glaring at Green.

  “This is a race horse,” said Green.

  “That shoe is too small.”

&n
bsp; “It’s perfectly appropriate.”

  And then the farrier yanked the shoe out of Green’s hand! “You’re not putting this shoe on that horse.”

  Green looked floored. It was funny.

  Then she snapped her fingers. “Arrest her,” she ordered.

  “We are in the middle of performing the code,” Firen said calmly.

  “She is required to provide me with what I demand.”

  The farrier clutched the shoe in a tight grip. “I’m not letting anyone destroy one of my animals,” she told Firen. “She’s supposed to know what she’s doing.”

  Good gods. Another suicidal one.

  Or one of those people who valued animals more than their own lives.

  Green didn’t continue with her protest. She could have the woman executed later. She picked up another shoe.

  And the farrier snatched that out of her hand, too. “Wrong.”

  Aryne chose to ignore the rest of that fiasco and continue with her own work. She removed the original shoe and trimmed the hoof. As she tested the lay of her chosen shoe against the hoof, I heard Green and the farrier arguing.

  “That’s wrong.”

  “You’ve claimed every option is wrong. You didn’t provide a correct size.”

  “If you knew what you were doing, you would have been able to see the right one immediately.”

  “So you did claim the right one was inappropriate.”

  “You’re not getting near my animals with nails, woman.”

  “Farrier Goldman, that’s enough!” Firen snapped.

  “I’m not letting her cripple one of my animals.”

  “It wouldn’t cripple the animal. A farrier of your quality would be able to repair-”

  “I’m not having this noble creature suffer pain just because I might be able to heal her after. The contenders are supposed to prove their worth by demonstrating competence.”

  Aryne, meanwhile, was hammering some minor adjustments to her shoe.

  “You’re running to the line of treason,” Firen warned the farrier.

  Goldman didn’t seem to care. “You want to hurt my animal? You have to buy her, first. Except I wouldn’t sell her to you.”

  There was a bit of a staring match between Goldman and Firen. After a few moments, Firen ordered, “Hand over the correct shoe.” He put up a hand to halt her further objection. “You clearly misinformed Her Ladyship when she chose the correct shoe. You’re interfering with the code. Comply or all of your animals will be placed in hands you wouldn’t desire.”

  Goldman clenched her teeth before snatching a shoe from the table and shoving it into Green’s hands.

  Maybe Goldman should escape from the city as soon as we left her premises. It was no longer impossible, what with most of the wall destroyed.

  I really hoped choosing the shoe was the only mistake Green made in this task, whether it meant she won or lost. I hated the thought of seeing an animal in pain.

  I focused on Aryne. She wasn’t an expert, of course, but she was careful. Goldman was anxiously splitting her attention between Aryne and Green, but she seemed a little more comfortable with Aryne. Aryne nailed the shoe on, then cut off the tip of the nails and clinched them flush with the hoof. She let the hoof settle on the ground. The horse placidly shifted its weight onto all fours with no sign of discomfort.

  Aryne rubbed the horse’s neck.

  Fortunately for all concerned, Green completed the rest of the task without any obvious mistakes. So, thank Zaire for that.

  “What are your judgments?” Firen asked the adjudicators.

  “Her Majesty triumphs,” Ogawa stated loudly. No shock there.

  Then Lady Ovan stated, “Lady Aryne triumphs.”

  That was a surprise to me. And to Green, who jerked and stared at Ovan.

  “Lady Aryne triumphs,” said Trader Thax.

  Everyone gasped. I was stunned. They were going to let Aryne win this one?

  Green was furious.

  “Lady Aryne triumphs,” Firen called out. “The contenders may return to the court room for the next test.”

  The next step of the code, as Aryne revealed, involved each contender being provided with a modest amount of money to determine which of them could purchase the most valuable collection of goods, both in quantity and quality. This was the exception to the rule requiring everyone supply to the contenders whatever they demanded. This part of the code was meant to demonstrate that the contenders could properly manage money.

  The number of coins, a mere handful, was dictated by the code, and represented a scanty amount of money. Determined by someone who had never had to worry about making money stretch, I would wager.

  The thing with the merchants in Erstwhile was that they didn’t barter. The price was the price and if you couldn’t pay it you could get the hell out of their shop. Not that Aryne had had any recent experience bartering. It wasn’t something she had had the opportunity to practise in the Academy.

  Her choice of a jewellery shop disturbed me. Did she understand how little she had been given? Did she really understand how money worked after so many years in the Academy? She’d never had to use money in the northern continent, which worked so differently than in Flatwell.

  She went straight to the display with the most expensive items. I pressed my lips together to prevent myself from giving unsolicited advice that might have disqualified Aryne anyway.

  I was startled by a crash on the other side of the room, and Druce let out an uncharacteristic stream of oaths. The table beside her had been tipped over. She righted the table and the merchant lugged up a sizeable iron security box that had clearly been on top of it, its contents spread across the floor.

  The whole set up had clearly been heavy. How the hell had she managed to knock that over?

  While everyone else was watching Druce and the merchant clean up the mess the Source had made, Aryne slipped a diamond cascade up her sleeve.

  Oh, for … one of the oldest tricks in history.

  And yet the impatient merchant had his attention fully directed to scooping up the jewellery that had spilled out of the box, and barked at everyone who tried to help.

  How could they not know? It was so obvious.

  Well, a lot of the witnesses were of high station. Perhaps they had never experienced this sort of crime.

  Once the table had been straightened out, Aryne asked, “What are the prices of these harmony bobs?”

  The prices he gave her, his voice sharp with irritation, would have been ridiculous outside of Erstwhile. “Ah,” Aryne said dismissively.

  “The merchant who supplies the Empress with jewellery can demand any price from his other customers,” Taro suggested.

  The merchant snorted. “Then she can come back when she’s the Empress. If she becomes the Empress.”

  It had been worth a try.

  “What are you playing at?” I hissed at Aryne after we left the shop.

  “Not against the rules,” she whispered back.

  True but, “That’s not the point.”

  “The point is winning.”

  “Do you honestly think he won’t notice and know it was you?”

  “I’ll give it back.”

  “Not before he notices.”

  “You have to have more faith in me.”

  This was going to be a disaster. No one would want a thief as a monarch.

  We went to the next jeweller in the lane. I was afraid Aryne and Druce would pull the same stunt. Instead, Aryne asked for the price of the cheapest pair of earrings, which was still too high. Five shops later, Aryne found a tiny gold pinkie ring. There were cheaper materials, but Aryne insisted that it had to be gold. The most valuable metal in existence.

  From there, we went to a tailor, where Aryne managed to dig out a small swath of plain cotton that the tailor had probably ordered by accident. She bought a small shovel, a sack of grain, and four cubes of peat. That consumed all of the money she had. We returned to the palace and were led
back to the court room. A table had been brought in, and Aryne arranged her items upon it.

  Everyone’s shock was audible when Aryne added the diamond piece.

  “Where did that come from?” Green demanded.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Firen interjected.

  “You remember your place!” she snapped.

  “I think we should all remember our places.”

  What did he plan on doing if Aryne lost? Sneak out one step ahead of a slew of Imperial Guards?

  The thing was, Green clearly couldn’t think of a response. What was wrong with her?

  “If the arbitrators would consider the results,” said Firen.

  Green had bought a map. Maps had their uses, of course, but they were ridiculously expensive. The average person could go their whole lives without ever seeing one.

  Green hadn’t had enough money to buy one, I was certain. Had she been able to bully someone into selling it to her for less than the usual price? Or into giving it to her outright?

  Green had also bought a pair of boots that had probably seemed practical to her, and dried meat.

  “The map is of the entire continent,” said Trader Thax.

  “The most valuable map one can own,” Ogawa pointed out quickly.

  “It’s no use to anyone hoping to purchase land, or build roads. Only the largest settlements are marked. It’s no use to most travellers or traders.”

  “This is the map a monarch would need,” Lady Ovan added. “This task is to determine the potential monarch’s understanding of the needs of the people, not the monarch.”

  “Which people?” Ogawa challenged.

  “People I have more familiarity with than either of you,” Thax said shortly. “I’ve had to work all my life.”

  Ogawa flared up. “I risk my life every day.”

  “Erstwhile doesn’t suffer any events,” Thax pointed out. “No Erstwhile Pair has ever had to commit a single day’s labour while they were stationed here.”

  This was true, and everyone knew it.

  “Enough,” Green ordered.

  Ogawa and Thax glared at each other.