by Pam Uphoff
He looked around frantically. There was a man in a uniform a lot like Mortimer's. He sidled up uncertainly. This fellow didn't look at all friendly.
"I'm looking for my cousin. He's in the King's Own. Do you know where I could find him? His name is Mortimer."
The man snorted and pointed. "Go that way about ten blocks, then cut to the right two blocks. Three blocks up you'll see guards about. Ask them."
"Thanks." He ran off in relief, dodging all the people on the sidewalks. "Ten blocks. Ten blocks." Turn before or after the tenth block? He turned before and went two blocks, turned and started seeing lots of uniforms. People coming and going from buildings. Huge fancy buildings. Palaces. He slunk along, overawed and uncertain. There were so many people in uniforms.
"Got a problem, kid?"
Lizard jumped and looked at the man behind him. "I'm, I'm looking for my cousin. He's in the King's Own."
The man raised his eyebrows. "Well, you're in the right place. This cousin got a name?"
"Mortimer. Mortimer of Easterly Farms."
The man's eyes narrowed. "Easterly." He bit a knuckle. "Mortimer Easterly. Right. Wait here."
The man dodged across the street and into a building. Lizard shifted from foot to foot, and squirmed while the people walking by looked at him like he smelled. Well, he'd been working since before the sun was up. He had a right to smell.
And suddenly there his cousin was, walking out of that building. Madder than hell, to look at him. But he relaxed his face and went back to looking like a stupid lackwit as he crossed the street.
"Lizard? What's wrong?"
"Tyrone's going to sell Beastly. He was a bit colicy and Tyrone blew some poppy up his nostril and says he'll take him down to the auction to sell."
Mortimer muttered something under his breath. "C'mon." He led the way further up the street, and then cut over to the biggest barn Lizard had ever heard of. There were rows and rows of stalls. Lizard followed Mortimer until he stopped at a stall. Bandit. Of course. But who'd have thought she'd be kept in a place like this. Like for Royal horses and stuff.
Mortimer saddled her up quickly, mounted and held his hand out. "Get up behind me. Put your foot on mine and there we go."
Lizard sat on the full saddle bags and held on to his cousin's belt. It was pretty bouncy back here, and Mortimer looked be in a bit of a hurry. He took a different path, through a bewildering bunch of small streets and came out suddenly on the street with all the corridors. "How can you tell where they go?" Lizard yelled over the street noises.
"Do you see those letters over the top? They spell out the town it goes to." He turned Bandit though one and suddenly they were back in Grantown.
The sun was just setting when they got to the auction barn. Mortimer headed into the office, Lizard trailing apprehensively.
"Seen Tyrone tonight?" Mortimer smiled at Mr. Henri who ran the sales.
"Yeah, he just brought in that horse your dad uses to haul a cart around."
"Huh. You'd think by now he'd know to not try and sell my stuff."
He moved off then, and walked out the holding pens.
And there was Tyrone, with Beastly. Talking to some farmers. ". . . big strong fellow, as you see."
Lizard backed away suddenly, staying out of sight.
"So, Tyrone. Fancy seeing you here."
There was a long silence. "Mortimer. Er."
"Let's go have a little family discussion, Tyrone." Mortimer pulled Tyrone into the dark outdoors.
It sounded like a rather painful family discussion.
Mortimer walked back in and led Beastly out. "We've decided to not sell him," he told the farmers.
Lizard scampered around and met him out front where Bandit was tied.
Mortimer was looking Beastly over under the lamplight. Lizard squirmed. "I think he might have been poisoned. A friend, he gave the cows something a couple of weeks ago, and I think Beastly got into it. Tyrone said if he was colicing we should sell him before he died."
"Do you know what your friend gave him?"
Lizard shrugged. "It looked like wine. It was supposed to make the cows breed."
"Oh. Old Gods. Not that wine. Beastly as a stallion doesn't bear thinking about." He sighed. "However, whether or not that is the problem, it's also the solution."
He dug into a pocket and pulled out a two royal note. "Pop into Samo's and get a bottle of red wine. We'll be walking slowly home."
Lizard loped down the street, looking back uncertainly. What was this wine Kevi and Mortimer both knew about? Surely not those stories about the wine of the gods. Those could not possibly be true . . . A stallion? Wow. There was good money in stud fees.
He caught up with them a mile down the road. Poppy or not, Beastly wasn't feeling good.
Mortimer pulled a canvas bucket out of his saddle bags and poured half the wine into it. Then he added something from a small flask. That brought Beastly's head around as he smelled it, and gulped the whole half bottle.
"Poor fellow. Poppy and alcohol can't be a pleasant combination. Not to mention, he's eleven years old. A bit late for puberty." He dripped some more of his secret ingredient into the half bottle of wine and corked it. "Come on, Beastly. Let's head home."
Lizard got to ride Bandit, very much to his delight. The mare was of a smaller lighter build than Beastly, with a springy trot and plenty of energy. "She's Beastly's dam, right? Who's the sire? A big draft horse?"
"We don't actually know. She wasn't bred on purp . . . Oh." He snorted and then started laughing. "Old Gods! I totally forgot about her getting out with that dun. Well. That explains why he's so good at following commands."
"What does?"
"She let herself out of a stall at a place that has a big dun draft horse. Incredible old wreck. Thought at the time he was a gelding. A whole lot later I learned that he's . . . very smart." Mortimer was studying Beastly thoughtfully. "Beastly, once you're feeling better, perhaps we should have a long talk about what you want to do with the rest of your life."
The big horse snorted and shook himself. His ears pricked up and he started prancing. Bandit laid her ears back and snorted warningly at him.
"And, no. I wasn't thinking about you as the Wild Stallion of the Three Rivers. So behave."
Mortimer locked him in the barn overnight, and when Lizard took a look in the morning he had balls. Small ones. "Wow."
Mortimer snorted. "I've got to get back to work." He looked up suddenly at the horse and grinned. "I've got some people and horses that I think you should meet."
Lizard frowned. "Are you taking Bandit?"
"Yep. Until Beastly is a bit better trained she'll still be my main riding horse. Maybe I'll find a good stallion to breed her too. On purpose this time. Hmm. Pyrite. Yes." He frowned a bit a Beastly. "I'll leave you here for a while. You need to adjust to the hormones and all that before I get Xen to adjust things back. And I'm sure Pyrite will be delighted to fill you in on how to be a really great war horse."
Beastly's ears pricked, and he nodded.
Mortimer looked down at Lizard. "And watch out for that fellow who gave him the wine in the first place. It's a damned inconvenient trick to play on someone else's livestock. I'm glad you came and got me, but, umm, next time, just ask for Captain Easterly. I don't much like Mortimer, as a name."
"Captain Easterly. Right."
"Stick him back out to pasture if he's still feeling good in the afternoon. I'll be back soon."
Captain Easterly. That is so posh. So not like the rest of our family.
Chapter Three
Fall 1397
Grantown, Three Rivers Province
Luckily Tyrone had only found the jug of stuff that was making Nabelle go bald. Even Tyrone had resisted drinking any more after her hair started falling out by the handful. Ericka was looking forward to Tyrone going bald.
Auction night had been fun, and the day after too. Pity Nabelle missed it all. And Neille had stopped working. She and Dare were jus
t tight, now. Pretty funny, really, a pair of over-the-hill whores falling in love with each other. Even if the elixirs did have them looking younger.
Lizard, Crow, Mouse and Skunk were up to something, she didn't know what. But they'd gotten a bunch of money somehow and actually bought two calves at the auction. It would be nice to see some of the kids settle down to farming.
In the meantime, she supposed she ought to go see Nabelle. Maybe offer her a different potion.
As she turned to go, Vonne grabbed her arm. "Whatever you are doing to your complexion, I want some."
Ericka nodded. "Find me when you get up in the morning." She'd pick another potion, put just a bit in a glass and fill it with water or something. It would be a good way to find out what it did before she sold the rest.
Halfway down the block, Filli, Tyrone's wife, stopped her. "Ericka, whatever you are taking to get so much energy, I want some."
"Oh, sure. I'll bring some tomorrow." That would get two more elixirs tested, maybe three if Kathi was handy.
She went back home and sorted through the little bottles for pretty ones. And then she had a brilliant idea. Lacking the bottles for it, she went down to the creek beyond the hay meadow and dug clay out of the bank. It didn't matter that the results would be ugly. In fact, ugly was good. She formed up a couple dozen lumpy little bottles and set them in the sun to dry.
Hexes. Make your rival's hair fall out. I could get rich selling these.
Marylu wandered by for a gossip, and Ericka put a couple of drops of 'Lady Rena' in a cup and made tea.
"I'm thinking about opening a shop." Ericka fidgeted. "Closer to town. The Hassoon farm's been abandoned for years. Do you think I could fix it up?"
"Of course you could." Marylu rolled her eyes. "I doubt you could fix it up enough. And if you did, someone would notice that you don't own it."
"Hmm. Yeah. And then they'd what? Put a claim in at the courthouse? Or do they call it a bid? I could do that. They say they'll take anything."
"They forget to say that that's because then you have to pay the taxes. You oughta get married. That's the way to get your own house." Marylu waved as she headed out the door.
"Oh. Drat." It'd take a lot of hexes to pay the taxes. Mom made a tremendous fuss every year about coming up with three hundred royals. And that was just for her quarter. A full farm, two miles square, would cost . . . Ericka fumbled briefly with large numbers. Over a thousand. And since she'd never had a whole thousand royals in her thirty-seven years of life, there wasn't much chance of it ever happening. Let alone happening every year. Year after year.
But she could take a closer look at the buildings.
She fetched her dried clay jars and stuck them in the stove's firebox, then carefully started adding wood to the coals. She could always hawk the Hex potions on the street.
She walked across to Uncle Willi's to check on Nabelle.
To her shock, Marylu and Nabelle were fooling around in Nabelle's bed.
Well, the things you never knew about your own family!
In the morning she swished a mix of water and fine powdery sand around the inside of her ugly jars and fired them again. Then the she walked into town, taking time to look over the Hassoon place. The house had fallen in altogether, the big barn looked dangerous, but a sturdy shed on the other side of the track was sound. She bit her lip and chatted up the clerk at the Courthouse. He was happy to check that yes, the original farm had been split to try and sell at least the fertile half. The taxes on the dry ridge half would be two hundred a year. "Until you put a house up on it, then they'll go up. If you put a bid in, you have to pay the first year tax, and the ownership will officially change at the next quarter."
She thank him and walked back thoughtfully. Looked at the shed. Ten feet deep, twenty feet long. Dirt floor, roof six feet high at the front and dropping lower at the back. But it could be hers. A starting place. She went home and emptied all her hidey holes and to her astonishment came up with a bit over four hundred royals.
Her family would grab it in a second, if they knew she had it. Mortimer always made Uncle Jek put his orchard money in the bank. She tucked the money in her sash and walked back to town. She spotted Tyrone coming and dodged into the bank. The well dressed gentlemen raised eyebrows at her.
"May I help you?" One of them asked, all polite and snooty.
"Is two hundred royals enough to put in the bank?"
"To open a new account, I assume?" The man looked a bit more human.
"Yes. My Uncle Jek has an account but I never have."
He got a bunch of papers and started writing. Her name. And suddenly she was Ericka Westerly. It sounded so . . . sophisticated. She even remembered enough of her lessons to be able to write it.
She marched across the square and into the Courthouse, and bid five royals for the northeast half of the Hassoon farm. And plopped down two hundred royals as proof of ability to pay taxes.
That pretty much took care of her money, but being broke was nothing new to her. As she left the Courthouse, she scanned the square for opportunities. She scowled. She'd told Lizard to stay away from that vicious brute of Mortimer's, and there he was, leading the damned horse across the square, all harnessed up. Trotting to keep up with the animal's long legs. Skunk, Mouse and Crow were running along with them, and she stalked that direction.
She lost sight of them when they turned back toward the river. The only thing out there were the flats where Tyrone and his buddies raced horses and bet on them. Beastly was definitely not a race horse. And when she got out there, she found that there were no races. Instead they were having pulling contests. Horses were hitched together and trying to pull the other over the center line. Equine tug-of-war. There were a bunch of young farmers and plenty of large horses.
Ericka found a nice shady tree, not too far from all those men, and proceeded to cheer indiscriminately as the early rounds eliminated all but the strongest horses. She batted her eyelashes at one of the losers and got him to explain the rules to her.
They drew numbers and each horse had two pulls against two other horses. Any horse that lost twice was eliminated. Then the remaining horses did it again.
"Once they get it down to the last four horses, then each horse does three pulls against each one of the others." The youngster looked at her curiously. "Not many women come watch."
"That big bay they are hitching up now belongs to my cousin. I guess he's made it to the second round."
"Good looking horse." The farmer patted his big blonde gelding apologetically. "Doesn't look like he's all draft to me, kind of long legged. May not do very well."
Ericka nodded thoughtfully. "Mortimer rides his dam." Beastly did look pretty long legged compared to the others. Actually he looked good, with a prettier head than any of the other beasts.
On the signal he leaned into the harness as the other horse was popped with a whip and leaped forward. The gray stopped like he'd hit a brick wall and Beastly dragged him step by step across the line.
Ericka cheered for him. As the spectators started outnumbering the contestants the betting started. She put a crown on Beastly every time he returned to the middle, and bet a royal on the final round, jumping up and down happily as he dragged a huge animal across the line.
Some of the farmers were counting their winnings and heading toward the kids. She followed discreetly, in case they needed an extra hand if things got rough, but found she'd misjudged the situation considerably. The farmers owned mares and wanted to breed them to Beastly.
Ericka frowned. Surely the horse had been gelded as a colt? But her memory must be faulty, because five mares were being led that direction. Five? Crow was giving the horse something in a bucket, and then giving some to the mares. Surely not wine! But something in a wine bottle.
They must have tried one of those potions! Found one that enabled the stallion to cover five mares in a short time. She scowled. I'd better secure those potions before everybody uses them all up.
When she finally walked home in the warm night, she stopped in the family room and eyed the boxes of jars.
"The bottles are pretty enough, but I wouldn't give you a crown for t'lot. Too much work cleaning them all out."
"Huh. You want them all? That'll cost you a whole royal."
Her mother blinked as she counted out ten crowns. She can't believe, heck I don't believe I actually ponied up money for these things. Now all I need is some idea about what each one changes. She hefted the box and took it up to her room.
It was slow work. Testing tiny amounts. She started a bit of work on her shed, getting it set up as a store, chatting about it in town, and selling elixirs based on what people who knew the family could see of the various cousins' changes.
She ran her hand through her thick blonde hair. She'd gotten a hundred royals each for the three with her own 'Lady Golden' elixir.
She'd given a sample of Lord Leo to Uncle Jek. He might be looking a bit younger, but she really didn't think it had done much. Maybe she was splitting her potions too much? But others still seemed to be working. Aunt Salti was all confused and shocked, what with her suddenly younger looks and red hair. Fifty royals each, Ericka figured. In fact all she needed was enough people to give samples to, to figure out about hair color, and she'd be sitting pretty.
As it was, she was bringing in more money than she ever had as a whore, and it was mostly going into the bank account. She figured she could enclose part of the shed for storage and a bedroom, and she'd started digging out the center of what would be left open. The slope it sat on was steep enough that people could still walk into the dug out part. She could leave a couple of feet alone at each wall, to support the wall and be shelves to display her elixirs, potions and hexes. She didn't want to do much more than dig, though, until the Winter Solstice when it would all be officially hers.
