Guns & Flame: The Sara Featherwood Adventures ~ Volume Three

by Guy Antibes

  “Stop,” Sara said. “Who told you of our poverty?”

  “Sandy hair. Green eyes. Rather short. He didn’t tell me his name.” The driver looked afraid. “I’m so sorry. The man told me you didn’t speak Belonnian, but you speak it like you grew up in Okalla.”

  Sara let out a sigh of relief. If Hans had been the perpetrator, she would have lost all faith in men. He knew she spoke the language competently. In fact, she didn’t want to show it, but it pleased her that the driver had complimented her facility with the language.

  “On to the better inn.” The driver said, as he was about to climb back up.

  “Stop.” She tried to keep it from sounding like a command. “Are you familiar with this inn?”

  “I am. I’ve stayed here many times.”

  “The sheets are clean?”

  He laughed. “Don’t let the outside fool you. It keeps the tax collectors away. This is a good inn for the common folk.”

  “Then we’ll stay with the common folk, if it’s clean.” Sara wasn’t sent to Belonnia to live as a noble but to collect information. What kind of information would she gain if she acted like a noble? She’d already learned something about Belonnia. Taxes significantly affected behavior.

  “Yes, lady,” he beamed at her. “You won’t be sorry.” He began to find their travel bags and began to whistle a tune.

  Sara climbed back into the carriage and shut the door. “The driver says the inn is clean inside. We’ve been sent to learn about Belonnia. We’ll start here. Meldey, consider this added fieldwork. You know Belonnian better than Lily or Willa, so keep your ears open.”

  “And if the sheets aren’t clean?” Willa said.

  “Then we are half an hour away from a better inn. But let’s make the best of trying to understand these people.”

  They walked through a door covered with peeling paint. The white walls of the common room reflected the oil-lamp chandeliers. Men and women crowded the tables. Laughter and spontaneous song lit up the place more than the lights, but the sounds died down as the patrons realized strangers had invaded their space.

  The driver walked through the door carrying some of their things. “Otta!” He rang a bell sitting on the reception desk. “Otta, I have paying customers! From Parthy of all places!”

  The sounds began to rise again, but the atmosphere of the room didn’t return to its raucous level.

  “Neffer. And how’s my favorite driver!” A middle aged woman with a flushed face and hair falling from a pile on top of her head threw her arms around the driver. “Haven’t seen you for a month!”

  “I’ve been working the Porcula-Okalla run. These ladies are students of the University of Parthy here on an exchange program.”

  “Lady scholars! I didn’t think any such thing existed in Parthy—male-dominated place that it is. I’ll bet they’ve got marks on their shoulders from pulling coaches such as yours.”

  Sara smiled. It seemed that both sides didn’t see with the same perspective. “I assure you I don’t pull carriages or carts for a living, innkeeper. We’d like rooms for the night. We’re on the way to Okalla.”

  “Speaks proper Belonnian, doesn’t she?” Otta said. “Come in and have a bite to eat while your rooms are made up. If you tell me what Parth is like, I’ll feed you for free.”

  Otta rang the bell three times. A lanky teenager, probably not much younger than Sara, walked in. “Ferd, help Neffer with his coach and the bags. Neffer,” Otta tossed him a key, “You know which room you’ll get tonight.” She winked at him and he grinned back.

  No wonder he brightened up when she decided to stay here for the night. Sara soaked up the atmosphere. In one sense, the inn seemed like any in Parth, but the smells and the feel of the place, its innate style, impressed her as foreign. This could be the real Belonnia.

  Otta led them to one of the few empty tables. “Won’t take long. We have simple fare here. Simple, but you should find it adequate.” She disappeared through a door at the side of the common room’s long bar.

  The laughter began again and soon the room returned to its happy state.

  “I see what you mean, Sara,” Meldey said in Belonnian with half a smile. “Who would have thought this village contained people who would laugh?” She leaned towards another table.

  “Mean what?” Lily said.

  “You didn’t understand any of the exchange?” Sara asked.

  “A word or two here or there. I did understand that our driver will have a pleasant night. I don’t have to learn Belonnian to figure that out.” Lily said and Willa nodded. “I take it the Otta woman will join our table?”

  “I know the type,” Willa said. “She’ll listen to us, learn a little about Parthy and then ask her a question about the tax collectors or some other subject that she’s passionate about and you’ll get more than you want to know.”

  “I do believe you’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Sara said. “You and Lily listen in to see if you can pick up some Belonnian words.” Excitement crept through her with the knowledge that this might be what the Duke wanted her to do.

  Two maids came out with two plates apiece, setting it in front of the women. Otta brought a plate of her own with fresh raw vegetables.

  “I’ve already had plenty of opportunity to taste my own cooking. So I brought along a few tidbits to be sociable.” She brought up a thin-sliced carrot and took a bite.

  “Lamb stew!” Willa said. She took a taste and smiled. “Reminds me of when I was a lass. Spicing’s different of course, but nice.”

  “Willa had lamb stew as a girl.” Sara translated Willa’s comments. “She says the spices are different.”

  Otta shrugged. “I didn’t even know you had lamb in Parthy. All I thought you ate were goats and potatoes.”

  That comment brought a smile to Meldey’s face, Sara noticed. What myths did Parthians have about Belonnians? What misrepresentations had Sara learned?

  “Knows a bit of Belonnian?” Otta said.

  “I’ve done my best to teach them,” Sara said and shrugged an apology and then smiled.

  “I’ll have to watch what I say.”

  Sara swallowed a morsel of tender lamb. “I can speak it quite well.”

  Otta laughed. “Of course you can if I had assumed you were Belonnian. So what kinds of foods do you eat?”

  “Whatever nature gives us. Lamb, pork, beef, chicken, geese, duck, and fish. We raise carrots, potatoes, celery, all kinds of herbs. In the south and west we have large farms that grow wheat, barley, rye and corn.” She thought of Hans as she said it. “We have orchards of all kinds, apples, pears, cherries, plums, peaches, berries.”

  “I’d have never… We’re told you all starve except for the nobles. You’re all nobles?”

  Sara pointed Lily. “She and I are. Meldey and Willa are our servants. More like assistants, actually.”

  Otta nodded her head. “Servants like our elite use. We don’t use the term noble anymore. Our upper class calls themselves elites. Like your nobles, same thing.”

  Doctor Miller told her about the egalitarian nature of Belonnia. He’d be an elite from Otta’s point of view. “A bit. Our nobles are born into a family of noble blood. Nobility has to do with one’s bloodline.”

  “Our elites say that they earn their positions, but who replaces them when they die or retire? Elite daughters and Elite sons, that’s who. We are left to pay taxes to support them.”

  “Really?” Sara said. “I thought you were all owned by the state.”

  “Oh yes. Neffer told you about why my establishment looks ragged on the outside?”

  “To escape the tax collector.”

  “Right you are.” Otta pounded her fist on the table. Sara heard a patron mutter and then laugh, ‘there she goes again’.

  “I can dim the room well enough when they come around and I have a few special rooms, just for them. I’ll not pay any more to those bloodsuckers than I have to.” The woman sounded like Natti, Sara�
�s housekeeper at Brightlings. She suddenly missed witnessing Natti’s indignation. “I own this inn, but the state owns the ground it sits on. So I pay taxes to keep the elites fat and happy.”

  “Don’t the elites ever come this way?”

  “No, Lady. They have inns where they stay on the main road. They can have elite business for all I care. I always do my part when the village elders come round for donations. I wouldn’t mind paying more in taxes if I knew the money would pay for what needs to be done in the village.”

  “I read that you had to have tattoos,” Sara said. “I thought that made you pay.”

  “Ah, that.” Otta rolled up her sleeve to show a line of letters and numbers on her wrist. “We get these when we’re fifteen. I can’t go much further than twenty miles from here. You have more freedom to get around through Belonnia than I do.”

  Sara looked at the black lettering. “So you live and die by using that number?” Sara showed Otta both of her wrists. “We can go where ever we wish. I didn’t know you are prisoners on your own land.”

  “Oh it’s not as strict as that. Aye, there’s my personal number, but the letters say where I can go. Lived all my life that way. The tattoos chafe some people, but this inn is my millstone. Can’t leave it and I don’t mind at all. I can learn all I need to about Belonnia from listening to travelers.”

  “But what if you had to travel to Okalla?”

  “Then I have to screw my face up in distaste and visit the magistrate for travel papers. Grease his palm with a few swans and away you go.”

  “A swan?”

  “Oh. Neffer said all he saw were stars in your purse. Swans are silver bits. Ten of them are worth a star. Ten brass foxes are worth a swan. Ten stars are worth a golden Imperial. Foxes, swans, stars, imperials. We don’t see many imperials out here.”

  Sara realized she’d hadn’t learned the currency. It didn’t seem too difficult. Not much different from Parthy’s system except pennies were copper, not brass and the names, of course.

  “Since I’ve never been to Okalla, can you tell me anything we should know to make our stay more enjoyable?”

  Otta rolled her eyes. “You’ll likely be monopolized by the elites. They’ll want to control your every move. There is a black market in the town, though. Ask a maid or stable hand, they’ll know where it is. Don’t ask the elites, it’ll make them mad. They just ignore things like that, but the black market serves them as much as the common folk. If you go out at night, be careful. There’s a lot of crime in Okalla in the dark. Take a weapon, if you can—even if it’s a dinner knife or a fork and none of you go out alone. Three’s better than two.”

  She pursed her lips in thought as Otta continued, “Don’t do anything strange or you’ll end up in the Okalla prison. That’s not a good place to be. I was in there overnight for taking ‘stolen goods’. That’s what they term black market merchandise that they want to confiscate. A friend of a friend found a person at the market who could get me out. They filled in a few numbers and letters on my wrist that got me out of the city.” Otta shivered. “Don’t get caught for doing nothing wrong.” She hugged herself. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for the chat. Perhaps we can talk a bit before you go in the morning.” She rose and disappeared again, taking their empty plates. The food had been good.

  Meldey stared at Sara. “There may be hope. I have an idea,” she said. “I think I’ll stay up a bit later.”

  Sara yawned. Talking to Otta had sapped her energy. “I can use some sleep.” Sara found a maid and had her lead them to their rooms. Lily and Sara shared a room, as did Willa and Meldey.

  Otta didn’t show up the next morning until after a hearty breakfast. The carriage returned to the road. They passed the students’ coaches at one of the inns on the main road. Sara laughed. The joke was on them. She arranged with Neffer to stop at inns of equal quality to Otta’s. He nodded, looking pleased with himself.

  Meldey couldn’t keep from yawning. “Late night.”

  “Learn anything?” Sara said.

  “The tattoos. Commoners think they are ludicrous and Belonnian script is so blocky that they can be changed. The elites believe they have control, but they don’t. If we ever had to move around the country, all we’d need is a fine tip quill, black ink and a book with the codes.”

  “Can you get procure those before you leave us?” Sara thought the Duke would love to get a codebook, if he didn’t have one already. Belonnia wasn’t as rigid a society as she thought.

  “I can always buy two sets.” Meldey said. One for me and one for you.”

  ~

  The other two stops didn’t yield them any more information, but confirmed pretty much what they had learned from Otta. The black marketplace in Okalla seemed to be an open secret. That worried Sara. Doctor Miller didn’t seem to be a fool, but that’s how the elites were viewed.

  Were nobles in Parthy treated with the same disdain by the commoners? Sara looked at Willa and nodded. She remembered Natti’s head shaking at her antics. When the Countess appointment came, Sara didn’t think much of the ladies at Court. Even she didn’t think much of a number of nobles she knew, Millis came immediately to mind.

  Okalla appeared on the horizon. Black spires shot up from all over the town. The city looked menacing as they approached the River Gonna and trundled across the bridge towards a black iron gate. Unlike Stonebridge’s rusted gate, this one looked oiled and working.

  The city seemed shrouded in darkness. Most of the buildings were constructed of black stone decorated with black iron on the walls. Doctor Miller went on about Okalla, the black city. His words didn’t prepare her for the reality. The decorations seemed to take on a life of their own. All kinds of patterns covered windows and the stone. Leaves, fruit, animals, less realistic designs. It seemed that the dour colors only made the creative juices flow freer in making the iron displays unique.

  Spires topped many commercial buildings and larger houses. Again creativity found an outlet in the shape and decoration of them as long as they rose to a point. To Sara’s interpretive learning, it seemed that repression had found an outlet. Did the people also reflect the buildings?

  Neffer found his way through the twisting streets and pulled up at a large five-story hotel. Dark red pennants flew from the corners of a portico that he drove partway through and stopped. He jumped down and opened the door for them. Porters dressed in dark red coats and black skinny pants surrounded the carriage, helping Neffer with the luggage.

  “It was a pleasure, Lady. I can’t say when I’ve had a more enjoyable trip from the coast.” He doffed his cap and Sara pressed a Star into this hand. “This is too much. I get paid by the state carriage company.”

  “Thank you, Neffer. Say hello to Otta the next time you see her.” Sara smiled and turned into the hotel.

  “My pleasure,” he called to her back. It certainly was for him, especially at their first stop.

  Sara turned and waved again. “I wish you well. I really do.” She turned and let a doorman open the door for her into a lobby that would put any brothel to shame.

  ~~~

  Chapter Eleven

  The Black City

  She walked on deep yellow carpeting covered with red swirls. The columns were black stone, but they were ringed with bright colors of paint. Draperies were white trimmed with wide lime green edging. She stopped to blink. The Belonnian elite dressed in black, and like their buildings the cloth was ornately black on black.

  The common people of Belonnia dressed like the commoners in Parthy, but Sara marveled at the uniqueness shown by the Okallan buildings and their clothing. How could a Parthian relate to Belonnia? Different worlds.

  “I am Countess Featherwood, a student from Parth,” she said to the woman at the front desk. No woman would be registering men in Parth.

  “Of course. Are there others in your party? I have a Lily Evertrue and a servant for each of you. Is that correct?”

  “It is.”

  The woman gave
her a perfunctory smile. “Your suite is paid for. You have arrived before the others. I have these two packets of instructions for you and Miss Evertrue. If you would sign for you both, I will have your luggage sent up and a servant take you up to your room. You’ll be on the third floor.”

  Both male and female porters stood around a central desk. A bell rang and some of them converged on the front desk. A young woman led them up the grand stairway and then up another further back to their rooms.

  The decor never changed in the intensity of the colors when they reached their suite. Two large bedrooms flanked a sitting room. Doors led to windowless servant rooms. The Belonnians didn’t deem the servants as worthy of the garish designs.

  The women sat around a low table in the central area.

  “Finally here,” Willa said. “I’m happy with my room. Anything to get away from the bright colors.”

  “I’d be careful of what you say,” Meldey said. “Even the walls have ears and eyes. Remember this is a dictatorship.”

  “An Empire,” Lily said.

  Meldey tilted her head, “An Empire, then. One that’s interested in every single person.”

  Sara knew what Meldey meant. Obviously, they’d have to watch their words in the room. She leaned back on the comfortable chair. The elites dressed like they were better than the commoners. Looking at the lush decor, the evidence showed that they certainly lived like nobles. She tossed Lily’s information packet to her and opened her own.

  “It’s time to see what we’ll be doing in Belonnia for the next two weeks.”

  Lily looked her program over. “We are included in everything that the men are. That’s rather nice.” She gave Sara a knowing smile. “There’s a discussion about Materials Science in the second week. I think you should go.”

  Sara noticed the same item. There were two days on that subject at the same time as a session on Belonnian culture. “You go to the culture discussion and I’d like to see what level of training our fellow University students have in comparison with the Abbey College and the Belonnians.”

  “And what will we do all this time?” Willa said. “I don’t want to be cooped up in this brothel any more than I need to.”