Vesteal 01 – 01 – Ghost in the Yew

by Blake Hausladen

  “Only Gern and I entered the capital, but yes, he and I were involved.”

  “Were you hurt?” Fana asked suddenly, her eyes upon Gern.

  “No,” our lieutenant replied flatly, “but I killed many men.”

  I was almost as shocked by Fana’s outburst as I was by the boy’s unflinching tone.

  I asked, “Where did this happen?”

  “In front of a public house just off the Servants’ Quarter called the Creedal,” Leger informed. “The attack was directed at us for trying to bring in a crop. The owner of the place was also drawn in—an old friend of mine named Haton. He chairs a Bessradi guildmaster’s association. Gern saved his life as well as my own. You should all be clear, though. As far as Bessradi is concerned, neither of us were ever anywhere near the Creedal.”

  I studied the room to be sure they understood what he meant. They did, and I bowed my head to Gern, “We are all in your debt.”

  The rest of the room thanked him, too, and I expected our young lieutenant to blush. He did not so much as smile as he nodded back at each. Enhedu had its second soldier.

  Dia interjected cheerfully, “Did you get to see Darmia?”

  Leger gave her a wary look I did not understand. “I did,” he replied flatly.

  Thell was next, saying, “Well, good for you, son. Glad you finally got up the courage. When do we get to meet her?”

  Leger turned a bright red. Something I had not thought possible. He managed to reply, “This fall with any luck.”

  Urs piled on, asking him, “Should I start setting aside some of your profits to finally furnish that apartment of yours? Buy you a bed perhaps?”

  “Yes, perhaps,” he replied, blushing further.

  I was terribly confused, obviously having missed again many layers of the lives of those around me. I opened my mouth to ask a question but stopped myself. Anything that could make Leger blush was something I should ask in private—or better yet, not at all.

  “Do you think the situation at Bessradi will get worse?” I asked, instead.

  “Without doubt,” he replied, “but we have allies there now. Haton said he would send a letter. With luck, he will be able to support our effort to find a market for our crops—perhaps something outside of the capital.”

  I questioned him further but the more I heard, the less it sounded like good news. I was still hoping to make Bessradi the target for Enhedu’s commerce until a harbor could be established, but the capital was sounding very far away and more unfriendly than I had feared. And Haton was dreaming if he thought he had a chance in the Sten’s court against Bendent. I decided to let the problem stew and allowed Leger to catch up on the simple news of the town.

  We retired soon after, and when Leger shook my hand, I found in his a slim circle of metal. I had almost forgotten. I smiled broadly at him and slid the wedding bracelet into my pocket.

  I made my way up before Dia could follow. The bracelet was marvelous, its slim swirl of gold set with thin slices of emeralds and onyx. The combination would never have occurred to me. How many jewelers must Leger have visited to find a bracelet that matched the colors of the new flags that flew atop our towers?

  Dia started down the hallway, so I hid the bracelet inside one of the vases upon the mantel. She playfully chastised me into a bath, and I pulled her in and held her throughout. I soaked up the warmth and tried to figure out when and how to give it to her.

  I settled beneath the covers expecting another night of very good sleep. It took just another moment, however, for me to realize how much an idiot I was. I could not marry Dia without my father’s permission. I had tried very hard to get a brother killed for doing the same. The bracelet was useless, dangerous. My father would not even receive my correspondence much less give his blessing, and secret marriages were plot twists best left to actors and their tragedies.

  Yet the line of the Vesteal demanded an heir. I could see no way forward.

  Morning came, quick and mean, with the bark of Leger’s axe in my ears and the wives of ghosts dancing in the corners of my vision. But I was no closer to doing honor by Dia when the brief time I had with her during our morning bath expired. I felt a coward when I hurried to my day.

  The sun was still climbing drearily over the horizon when Leger collected my signature upon a very pointed decree and led me down to bid farewell to the men from Alsonvale. Gern and the entire well-armed and well-rested garrison, upon Fell stallions that had recovered just as remarkably, escorted them south. The decree Gern carried would be posted in the timber camp.

  * * *

  BE IT KNOWN TO ANY MAN THAT

  TRAVELS THE ENHEDU ROAD

  You are under the protection of a Yentif

  Arilas, and by his decree, any man who would

  conspire to harm you has forfeit his life.

  * * *

  We also made a stop at Erom’s shop to ask him to carve the same message upon a pair of heavy road stones so the same could be declared more permanently at both ends of my road. He was only too happy see it done.

  I would have worried about so pointedly challenging Kuren, but Leger was right. A Zoviyan Prince who just purchased two brigades worth of horses would do no less.

  Our next stop was out by the grain barns to prepare for the throngs of farmers who would arrive the next morning. We raised a tent just west of the bridge by the mill and new barns, and, afterward, Leger walked us south to the wide, fenced prairie so we could work out the details of who owned which ponies. I was again too generous in my dealings, calling 300 head the property of Gern and Company outright, but the Chaukai did agree to take on the debt for all the animals the farmers, quarrymen, and timbermen did not.

  I returned to the tent where Urs and I set to reviewing the long list of farmers and what they wanted. They did not keep us waiting, and it took three days to see them all. I had been worried about the boredom of such work, but it proved thoroughly engaging. Every man who had come hoping to borrow a single sack of wheat took twenty and a pair of speckled grays instead. A dozen men with large families and ambition took as many as 300 sacks, a dozen ponies, and several score of cattle or sheep. They all put their names upon a promise to pay and raced home to break new ground. They emptied my barns of the high-quality seed and paid their rents with what they could. The sacks of oats and barley they delivered, I suspected, came from “wild patches” like the ones the Dame had used to keep us fed through most of the spring—all of it planted here and there in the years since the garrison had departed Urnedi. Enhedu could not have sustained its thousands with the tiny parcel each village had been allowed. I made the occasional comment so that they would know I was wise to it, but did nothing a Yentif would have done—fine them, beat them, or declare them churlish and take their families as my slaves. They were living lean in order to make good their rents, and they had done me no harm. The rest of the year’s crops, especially the crop of spring wheat and apples, would put things right. By all accounts they would enjoy a marvelous harvest, and with their rents already paid, what the crop earned them would be entirely profit. Enhedu’s villages were poised to become Urnedi’s first customers.

  More engaging still was the throngs of first sons and daughters they brought, each with dreams of finding work in my town. I turned none away, and the challenge of matching so much labor to industry was a businessman’s dream. Sahin’s consortium was able in just those three short days to make good its promise to provide apprentices to all of Urnedi’s craftsmen. The consortium also met with and gave status to a number of men from the villages that had long been relied upon for their trade. One of Sahin’s cousins even thought himself a beekeeper. I was skeptical. Sahin vouched for him, though, so I gave him a plot of land in Ojesti. And with him, my tax rolls suddenly had a hundred names upon it. None would be paying any taxes for a while, but if they had customers in the coming seasons, they just might be able to afford to pay them when the time came. And the tally of my rents, nearly 32,000 acres at two standard
s each was worth three times as much as my stipend. It was still a pittance to a Yentif but enough that day for Kyoden to be contented.

  Part IV

  Bayen’s Women

  53

  Matron Dia Esar

  Helet Parsatayn

  “What a gorgeous day,” I said as I flung the shutters open to let in the fresh air. The dawn was just gathering, the birds were loud, and Leger’s axe cracked with a determined tone.

  “Ugh,” Barok replied and scrunched himself lower in the blankets.

  I finished getting dressed, pulled the stop on the bath pipe, and took another look outside.

  Barok liked the view from the top of the keep. I liked the one from our window. The souls who had once crammed themselves into three miserable shacks now walked proudly before shops and homes they had built and would one day own. The arrival of Master Sevat had transformed the lifeless row of buildings on the west side of town into the very likeness of a bustling Bessradi avenue. He and his craftsmen were an impressive set, too, but when I learned he employed a silversmith, it finally sank in—Sevat made carriages for royalty. I simply could not wait to see the first silver-trimmed coach emerge from the wide barn at the top of Carriage Road.

  Of course, we’d gotten just the one night’s sleep between the day the farmers had all returned north and the day the carriagemaker arrived—nearly one hundred strong with wagons of every shape and size. They got right to work, too, declining even the roundly suggested idea of a celebration of their arrival. Sevat, it was apparent, made no small plans. His venture was as large as his family, and it was decidedly obvious he meant to provide for every member of the latter with the success of the former. And about his family it must be noted that of his nine children, seven were girls. Who would want to raise daughters in Bessradi?

  I had expected, feared, that their arrival would fracture Urnedi’s rhythm of effort. But none of them were oafish or lordly or even devotees. They arrived more like refugees, quiet and humble with no hint of Bayen upon their lips. They told grim tales of the Kaaryon instead—tales of press gangs and winter.

  “Come back to bed,” Barok beckoned, but I was not going to let him lose his morning. I hated leaving our bed as much as he did, but keeping him from the town would spend the respect I had earned.

  “I told you, no. Now get up before the bath runs over.”

  He noticed the height of the water and jumped up to slap the valve.

  “What is it today?” he asked after settling himself in. He knew better than to ask me to bathe him after I had already gotten into one of my silk gowns. Sleeping in had a cost.

  “Erom is breaking ground at the new well site, and Umera has the first of the new uniforms ready for your inspection.”

  “Already? It’s only been a few days since Leger brought the wool.”

  “A few days? It’s been ten, and she should have had the first done in only two or three. She and Merit need to get back to work. You best get moving, too. Leger has already finished chopping wood. He’ll be up in short order.”

  “In a moment,” he grumbled, trying to nap in the tub.

  “There is something else I wanted to talk to you about, too, while we have time,” I started, but began immediately to lose my nerve.

  Ask him, you coward, does he want children or not.

  Bang, bang, bang, went Leger’s fist on our door.

  “I’ll be down presently,” Barok growled as he slammed his fist on the basin.

  I cringed. I hated when his morning turned sour. It usually made for a ruin of a day and made it perhaps the worst time possible for me to tell him I had stopped taking the mangor root. It made me reconsider, for a moment, whether I wanted to have children with him at all.

  I nearly abandoned him there but lingered long enough to help him find clothes and let him put his hands on me a bit more. It didn’t earn me any smiles, but his growl did soften into grumbles before he left to follow Leger.

  After I made sure Leger had moved away, I stepped out. The alsman had been avoiding me, and I was happy to go right on avoiding him, too. I was certain it had been his idea to set me aside for Fana, but I did not need him as a friend when I counted everyone in the town as one.

  I moved down but had beaten breakfast to the great hall, so I decided to make my way down to the kitchen to visit the Dame.

  The space was hot and hectic, and I found her directing traffic in the center of the wide square of the kitchen. Breakfast for the town was just about to make its way out.

  The girls all smiled and waved as they could, and the Dame spared me a big hug. She moved with the ready food through the storerooms toward the sally door, and I decided to follow, interested to see how Fana conducted herself as our new representative at the town meetings.

  The sight of the storeroom was startling. Some time back it had been freed of its noisome chicken coop and refit with the same thick-framed shelves that lined the armory. But I had not seen the cool, well-swept space since the farmers had visited and their rents had filled the place. Every shelf was loaded with tan sacks, brown jugs, or pine boxes.

  “It looks like wild millet bread is off the menu for good,” I commented.

  She laughed and smiled as we made our way out into the dawn. “Try one of these,” she said and pulled a warm bun from the wide basket she carried.

  It was dark brown, soft, and warm. I bit into it greedily, and the hearty flavor of the dark oats made me grin and giggle.

  “What a reward for the town. These are amazing.”

  The Dame’s knowing smile was colored by a bit of a blush.

  The smell of the bread beat us there, and the murmur of the gathered crowd became cheers and happy moans of delight as the bread vanished into their hungry bellies. It was a moment to be remembered.

  I looked for Umera in the crowd but did not see her. I was disappointed but felt also a moment’s pride for having made it possible for her to be with Merit. I doubted I would see her much at all since we both dined with our men. But there are worse things than losing a friend to happiness.

  Fana did not arrive either, and this I could not understand, nor could anyone else offer an explanation. I stayed in her stead, but if the town wanted to discuss anything that morning, the bread made them forgetful.

  I started back in search of her, working hard to navigate the muddy streets. The puddles were an inconvenience I managed to avoid most of the time, but at some point, I had allowed the hem of my dress to dip into one. And trying so hard, I of course managed to do it a second time.

  I cursed and then looked around to see if anyone had heard. No one had, but I caught the callow stares of several men. Men I knew. They looked away, and I was startled. The last men to look at me that way were Almidi’s drunks and Bessradi’s porters.

  I stepped toward the castle, uncertain for a moment what had changed but knew it the next. Leger. Since his return, his reproach had spread as fast as the touch of Emery’s furor. I was appalled. All the respect I had earned in town had been replaced instantly with notions of what else I could be used for.

  Worse, I did not find Fana in her gallery alcove nor was Barok in the hall.

  I went cold. Had Leger put the two of them back together?

  I raced up the stairs in search of them. Our apartment was empty, but I was drawn by a noise coming from the storeroom at the end of the hall. I crept closer and heard soft sobs. It was Fana. Perhaps my prince or Gern was forcing himself on her. I was torn between dread and happiness when her sudden approach sent me scurrying back down the hall. I ducked into my room and hid behind the wardrobes. She passed the open door, and I waited, but no one else came. Strange. She had been alone.

  I followed her down to her place in the gallery, hunched across a sunlit table. She looked across, smiled weakly, and waved me over.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as I approached.

  “What do you mean?” I asked defensively.

  “Nothing, just, you look furious. What happened?”<
br />
  I tried again to hate her but couldn’t. She meant so well and was as selfless as I was selfish.

  I sat down across from her, and in the relaxing warmth of that sunlit space, I found tears in my eyes.

  “Milady, what is it?”

  “The town …” I started to say but could not finish. Then tears came.

  “I know,” she said darkly. “I hate it. They treat me the same. Whispers and long looks.”

  I sniffed and wiped my eyes on the kerchief from my sleeve. “What? You too? But they are trying to move me aside so you can take my place.”

  “Dia,” she said with a very confused expression, “Barok cannot marry either of us. It does not matter how much time they waste planning which of us it is to be. Until Lord Vall allows it, we are nothing more than Barok’s whores.”

  It was like being slapped. I held my head in my hands and said the terrible, unthinkable words. “Barok will never get permission, will he?”

  “No. Leger and Sahin talk about it all the time. Permission will be a long time coming, and it will be senior princes who get it—maybe just Crown Prince Gavish. Sahin is really keen on Barok having an heir. He wants him to marry in secret, but Leger keeps telling him that that is the quickest way to get us all killed. You are still taking the root, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” I lied. “How do you know what they talk about?”

  “Gern tells me.”

  I resented it but was glad to finally be able to ask some questions. “Have you heard what they have planned if I am with child?”

  “Yes, they have planned for that, too. There is a cottage tucked away at the very top of the peninsula to hide someone away if needed.”

  Someone? I thought bitterly but did not say it. “They do love deciding for us, don’t they?”