by Mari Collier
“Woman in my land, no decent man hits a woman, but if y'all don't back down, y'all aren't leaving me any choice. Sign that list, laddie.”
Ur bent and wrote his name and handed the stylist back to Laten. Then he put his hands behind his back and bowed. When he straightened, he saw the slight smile on Lorenz's face.
Lorenz looked at Mafy. “Get out of here. No one is backing your play.”
Mafy looked around. Most of the Sisters didn't like her and she didn't have the authority to order them. She stalked off vowing to stun the mutant alien at the first opportunity.
Lorenz turned to Ur. “I believe at this point, y'all have the right to partake of the food inside the tent. Is that correct?”
“Aye, Laird.” It was difficult to keep his voice from cracking. He decided it was the shock of seeing someone with grey eyes that saw. Ur walked around the table and towards the tent seeking safety from the outraged family of the lassie he had tried to snatch. Once inside he inhaled the long missed smell of meat and breads spread out among the sauces, plates, and utensils. One table was loaded with sweets and kegs of brew waiting to be tapped. Ur grabbed a plate and began piling it full after stuffing a slice of fatty kine into his mouth.
“Careful, laddie, eat too much rich food on an empty stomach and it will protest.”
Ur whirled to see the Laird with a bemused look in the strange grey eyes studying him.
Balancing his half-filled plate, Ur gave a quick bow. “All Abs wait for this day to indulge, Laird.”
“I am not Laird according to Thalian law. My name's Lorenz MacDonald. Y'all may call me Mr. MacDonald after the way of my people.”
Ur ducked his head, looked up and grinned. “Aye, Laird.”
The man was half-laughing at him, but the eyes were still hard as though seeing right through him.
“Eat away. Anyone with guts enough to defy the Sisters and Martin in one day is welcomed here.”
Lamar appeared at the tent opening.
“I am going to find Beatrice. Ishmael tis here to see ye.” His voice sounded angry to Ur.
Lorenz nodded at him and went towards the tent opening. Once outside he was caught in a bear hug by a young man his height and weighing approximately the same. He felt the head on his right shoulder and then on his left.
“I did nay properly thank ye the other night.” Ishmael was beaming at him. “How do ye greet in your land?”
Lorenz put out his right hand and after a moment Ishmael grasped it and they shook. Lorenz noted that Ishmael wore a skin tight shimmering aqua suit with a V neck slashing to the beltline. His hair was neatly trimmed in the short fashion of Thalians.
“Y'all look much better than the last time we met. Come in, have a brew.”
Ur was at his elbow handing them two filled mugs. He bowed and vanished.
Lorenz's eyes were wide with surprise. “What the?”
Ishmael laughed. “Ur tis being useful. He must be in trouble with Martin again.” He took a sip of the brew. “Tis nay as I expected, but what body! Which House brewed this?”
“Nay House, but one of the foreign companies from my planet. Papa, the Maca, said that Thalians would appreciate this one. The English call it stout.”
Ishmael shook his head at the strangeness of the words and drank again. “When I am able to sell my loads, I will buy some of this if ye intend to market it.” He smiled at Lorenz. “Today I need to fulfill a promise. Can we talk inside?”
They drifted into the tent, and Ishmael continued. “I made a promise to the Kenning Woman while she lived that I would try to get her laddie to ye. Since my fish were dumped, I've spare time on my hands before sailing again.”
“Why did the Kenning Woman want her son, laddie, to be with me?”
“She kenned she was in danger and that Martin planned to use Wee Da as the Maca of the Abs to rule Thalia. She could nay protect him from Martin. Since ye are to restore Don and Thalia, she felt he would be safe with ye. She hoped ye would allow him to become House. She did nay care whether it was Don, Army, or Flight. Di felt that being a House Warrior would be his best protection.”
“I was told the Abs had no Maca.”
“They dinna, at least the Abs that follow the work seasons. The land Abs are different. Each small group has a Maca. Tis laughable. They are deposed by a challenger regularly.”
“According to Latin, Don has most of the land Abs.”
“They are on the emptied lands of all of the Houses except Rurhran. Ayran may have a goodly populace, nay ken. There are fewer on Ishner and Betron, but they exist.”
“How did they get there? I was told the Justines and Kreppies moved all of the people from the interior to the coastal cities.”
“They cared nay where the Abs went afterward. Some Tris eluded them and they became land Abs.”
“Do they live off the land or buy supplies?”
Ishmael shrugged. “They exist by hunting, fishing, and growing a few crops. If times are bad, they come to the mainland and join the Abs here and work for a season or two. Most of the land Abs move their camps in the spring and fall. A few have permanent homes. As far as I ken, the land Abs eschew all learning and technology even more than the Abs with Martin.
“If ye cross Don's mountains,” Ishmael pointed to the northeast, “there are small fishing villages on the coast. Tis said that escaped Tris have put up a settlement inland rather than bow to the Kreppies.”
“And they were left alone?”
Ishmael's face was bitter as he answered. “Aye, nay had to feed them. Other than living in one place, they are little different from the Abs. Ye are nay drinking your brew.”
Lorenz looked down and gave a self-conscious grin. “I'm not fond of brew even though my mother, mither, made it.”
“What do ye drink?”
“Whiskey, brandy, and sometimes wine with a meal. If y'all don't mind, I'm going to change the subject as I've much to learn about Thalia and Papa's been as busy as I.”
Lorenz looked at Ur. “Why don't we go outside and y'all can tell me about the fish? Are y'all ready for another brew?”
Ishmael grinned. “One more, Lorenz, and then I must rejoin Ishner's tent. Ishner hires few Abs. We take enough to help with the cleaning of the catch and packing when the season tis in full swing. What tis it ye wish to ask about the fish?” He accepted the fresh mug Lorenz handed him.
“It sounded like y'all had caught a load of fish and just dumped it. Why?”
“Ishner tis overrun with Sisters. My elder does nay wish to offend them. If they revolt, or one challenges her lassie for the title of Maca, Ishmalisa would have to fight her. Ishmalisa tis nay the most magnificently built Thalian. The Sisters would nay let her counselor, Illnor fight. Tis their Sisterhood laws.” His voice grew harsher as the explanation went on.
“The Sisters dinna like the fact that Ishmalisa has given me back my ship. They judged my catch as nay worthy and refuse to transfer it to the packers, or to the meal processing plant.”
“That's wasteful. What would your Guardian say if y'all were to come up with credits for your catch?”
“How do I do that if I canna send them to market?”
“Y'all sell them to Don for meat or meat credits.”
Ishmael took a long drink. “Ye could nay process them, or if ye did, nay sell them elsewhere.”
“Agreed, at least selling them. I need to talk with Papa, Fither, and see what solution he proposes.”
“Don has nay meat to sell.” Ishmael hated pointing out the obvious.
“That's what the rest of Thalia thinks, and we'll let them continue to think.”
“Continue?”
Lorenz's smile transformed his face. “Aye, we are already supplying all of Donnick with the beeves, kine, I've rounded up. There are kine on this side of those mountains and more where land Abs dwell.”
Ishmael's eyes lit up. “Di was right. Don will be restored.” He looked at the man in front of him. In truth, Lorenz could pass for a
Thalian; except for the grey eyes that were nay blind. Perhaps they had more in common.
“I hope ye dinna mind my asking, but how close are ye to the wedding age? I canna judge by looking at ye.”
“I've been married—wedded as y'all call it. My beautiful Antoinette died after sixty-five years of marriage. That was about forty years ago and I still miss her at times.”
“Lorenz, I—I offer my sorrow. One should nay die so young.”
Lorenz shook his head. “Ishmael, my world is completely different. Antoinette died of old age. I should be dead too, but I'm part Justine, and I do not die at the end of a normal Earth lifespan.”
For a moment the bitterness flowed in his speech and Ishmael searched for a way to change the conversation.
Lorenz looked up and saw a well dressed Ab woman approaching the table. Her face was ruddy, her dark brown, braided hair swung over one shoulder, and her kirtle was new and clean. The brown blouse appeared satiny, and around her neck hung a carved bone necklace. She wore a rust colored vest and matching colored boots. Lorenz noticed that Dolo's shoulders stiffened. He walked forward and the woman looked across Laten and Dolo to study him as intently as he had studied her.
“I've come to see what tis still available.” Ki spoke to Laten, ignoring Dolo.
“As ye ken, all but one of the listed positions remains open,” Laten answered.
“Tis there one that offers a home with a garden if there are two?”
“Aye, if ye are planning on bringing the laddie. Won't Martin take it out on him next year?”
Her full lips pulled back in a grimace. “May Martin go to the Dark. I have more questions.”
She looked directly at Lorenz as though to challenge him as she asked, “Tis it true that ye have my younger, Ka?”
“There is a youngster, laddie, at the Laird's Station named Ka. He seemed to come with the Kenning Woman's laddie and the other one.”
Ki's face softened. “Does Don intend to give rights to the Abs that sign?”
“Aye, that we do.” Amusement flickered in Lorenz's eyes. “Y'all will have the right to a name, to learn, to keep the home, and mayhap work out a deal to remain on the same land for a per cent of what y'all grow.”
For a moment the dark eyes flared, then she considered. “What tis a per cent?”
“Don would only tax, take a small part of what y'all produce. It would be your job to sell what y'all produce to the vendors or markets in town. If y'all don't wish to peddle your produce to individuals, Don would buy it, but at a lower price then y'all might get on the open market.”
“There tis nay market and few vendor stalls.”
“There will be more.”
“Are ye saying, Laird, that the land I work will be mine?”
“I'm saying that the home and land will be leased to y'all for a set number of years if y'all sign. Ye could earn a lot more than Ab credits if y'all are as good as your clothes say y'all are.”
“And tis there brew for the signing?”
“Aye, it is inside.”
“And tis brew part of the weekly credits.”
“Y'all will have to buy your brew out of the credits. It'll be served with the communal meals, if and when y'all eat with the others.”
“Tis this how they do things in your land, Laird?”
Lorenz smiled. The woman had a mind. “Not quite. When my land had few people, the government, what ye call the Council of the Realm, gave land away free or sold it for a small fee to all who would work it.”
Everyone was staring at him.
“The Houses gave away their land?” Ishmael could nay believe what he heard.
“There are no Houses in my land. Houses are what we call individual homes.”
Ishmael looked at him in disbelief. The Justine did nay have Houses, but the Kreppies and Brendons did. “Who rules the land then?”
“It depends on the country. In mine, we elect, cast votes for those we want.” Lorenz smiled at Ki.
“Well are y'all going to sign?”
“Ka will be with me and join me in the work. His food will be on top of my wages. I am worth it.” Her head and shoulders were straight and the gaze straightforward as though none could dispute it.
“Sign away. The food and brew are in the tent.”
Lorenz looked down at the list on the screen and frowned.
“How goes the signing?” It was Llewellyn returning with Brenda.
“Not good, Papa. I say open the jobs to anyone who wants them, and that means Tris.”
“Maca, Laird, Tris will nay take an Abs job.” Laten protested.
“The announcement was in the Maca's message I sent to all the homes. Tis been repeated every four hours. Mayhap that tis why so many are here.”
They watched Llewellyn walk through the Sisters and up to where the Tris waited. Their mutterings had been growing louder.
“Laird, we should follow. There may be trouble.” Laten stood.
They were in time to hear his words.
“I heard grumbling. What tis the problem?”
A man stepped forward, his chin out. “Ye offer jobs to Abs and nay to us.”
“Ye are wrong, If ye want jobs, they are yours. If ye are nay sure what tis available, we'll be happy to tell ye. There are even more jobs than what tis on the Ab list. If someone is an excellent gardener or machinist, tell us. We'll place ye. I need men and women like every one of ye!
“This tis Laten, Director of the Laird's Station, Llewellyn continued. “He will sign up those that wish to work there. Those that prefer town living need to see the Director of each Sector's Center.” With that he turned and walked back to the table.
He smiled at Dolo. “Are they following?”
“Aye, Maca, they are.”
Laten resumed his seat beside her and she whispered, “I must tell Ki that we are filling the jobs with Tris and will leave soon. Else she will drain the brew and leave. If she leaves she will find a companion and start to drink elsewhere and nay return.”
Chapter 18: Council of the Realm
Betta and Beauty watched as the Guardians and Counselors took their places. For once the lower tiers were filled with Tris. Where did they come from?
Betta was puzzled. The light blue clad Tris outnumbered the brown clad Abs. Was Llewellyn planning more trouble? She already had an accounting of the charges Rurhan planned to bring and the list of grievances from the Sisterhood. She turned on the audio and spoke.
“People of Thalia, much has happened these last few days and there tis much to cover this eve. We realize that many are anxious to return to House after the signing. We shall try to be as brief as possible.
“The Sisterhood has declared their laws against the males of Thalia nay valid. We apologize to all we have hurt. This means all males may take their place in society as Thalian laws have always dictated.”
Cheers greeted her words.
Betta continued. “The Council realizes it will take time to implement. Before we proceed, there is another matter that concerns us all.
“Llewellyn, ye who call yourself Maca of Don, are but part Thalian. I must ask ye. Can ye enter another's mind?”
“Aye, I can do that, but ye have my word as a Maca and a Thalian that I will nay enter any Thalian's mind.”
Betta's face was stern as she spoke. “Ye say that, but how do we prevent it from happening if ye appear in the arena?”
“Guardians of the Realm, ye will need to judge that if it ever occurs.”
“Ken this, Llewellyn, ye will nay be Maca if ye do. Thalia has had enough of Justine rule.”
“Guardian of the Realm, I suggest ye are raising hypothetical situations when ye wish to avoid voting to restore Troyner to his rightful position and returning the kine and sheep to Don.”
“Tis my kenning that Rurhran tis negotiating that situation.”
“Rurhran tis refusing to return them. I have instructed my Guardian to request a vote”
LouElla leaned forward to
speak. How dare they attack her laddie? “Before the Guardian of Don makes that request, I ask ye to restore Troyner to his rightful position. The Justines had him on the list of those deliberately removed. The treaty specified that Thalia return to the rules of Thalia ere their arrival.”
“Troyner was nay even born then.” Betta wished to return to the subject of Don.
Brenda, Maca of Betron, interceded. “What the Director of Flight has requested tis reasonable. There should be a vote.”
“There will be nay else considered while we debate the validity of Llewellyn holding the title of Maca.”
Betta noted that Llewellyn was clenching and opening his hands. Let him, she thought, we're ready for him.
She made sure her next words were measured with just the right spacing for emphases. “Council of the Realm, we now request your remarks before our vote on the validity of Llewellyn as Maca of Don.
“Jolene, what do ye say?”
Jolene's face remained bland, but her full lips curled. “I think ye have been very busy and have lined up Rurhran on your side. Ye canna dispose Llewellyn by decree. He has every right to be Maca and ye have nay right to do so when imposters are ruling Troy.”
Beauty interrupted. “Guardian of the Realm, Llewellyn must be escorted out.”
Llewellyn's roar interrupted her. “I am Maca! Let any who denies me or wants to be Maca challenge me now.”
Silence prevailed.
“I thought nay.” Llewellyn swung his eyes back to Betta. “On the contrary, Guardian of the Realm, tis the Council that must leave if ye pursue your stated intent. This farce of a meeting tis nay amusing. If ye reject me, Don will charge a fee for any meeting held here. As long as ye leave the Abs in my care their supplies will be delivered to the Director of the First Center and we will determine their distribution.”
At this Martin stood to add his protests, but the stentorian voice of Llewellyn overrode his un-amplified voice.
“Be aware that as Chairman of the Board and President of the MacDonald Corporation, the ships I brought with me stay with Don.”
Betta blanched. How could she stop this tirade?
Llewellyn's voice rumbled on. “The Golden One that left with the Justine and the Kreppies will be returning. When they do, the profits from that trip belong to the MacDonald Corporation and the goods will be stored on Don and Thalia charged for the storage. It will be the people of Don who have the jobs of storing and transporting the merchandise to the other Houses, if they have the credits to buy them. The Sisters also need to ken that Flight remains in Don. Tis here that the ships remain and new ones built. Any that pilot them must seek permission from the Director of Flight or the Maca of Don. Your threats are hollow. Ye can, of course, return to the true problems of Thalia.”
