The Windsingers

‘Vandien, my friend, the ill will of the Windsingers could follow us anywhere we might choose to go. It would not be a simple mistake, an “excuse me, please” and backing out of their territory. There are no limits to their influence. Once they had marked us we would never know a day of fair weather again. No one would hire me, nor buy goods from me.’

Vandien had finally turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. But the damn tinker was making so much noise that Ki had to raise her voice to be heard. Around her, T’cheria were beginning to scuttle from the room. They considered it an insult to be disturbed while they were feeding. Ki didn’t care what they thought. She would make Vandien understand her. It annoyed her that he was obviously half-listening to the noisy tinker. She took both his hands, raising her voice yet again. But the tinker’s voice still overrode hers.

‘And I say, burn them! Burn your crops in the field and scatter the sheared wool of your flocks. Let them whistle for a share! They want the best that your sweat and blood can bring them, and what do they give you? Only the rain and the gentle winds that are the right of any creature that walks the face of the world! Burn them in the fields, and let them sniff smoke and weave ash for their share! Keep only what you need for your own families. Let them suffer a winter of privation, such as the many you have known. Maybe then…’

Vandien seemed awed by the man’s hysterical cant. Ki squeezed his hands and half-rose, shouting to make herself heard. ‘Only a fool would oppose the Windsingers! And I’m not a fool. Let someone else be a hero. I just want for us to go our quiet way, unnoticed by them. Vandien, there’s you and me and the team, and not much else I care for. But, dammit, I care for that a lot, and I’ll go a long way to protect it. Leave the Windsingers alone,’ she shouted at him, ‘and they’ll leave us to live in peace.’

To her sudden chagrin, Ki found herself bellowing into a silenced common room. The T’cherian diners were gone. Angry faces, Human, Olo and Kerugi, clustered in the low doorway, staring at her. Her raised voice had not only reclaimed Vandien’s attention, but captured that of everyone else in the inn. The tinker was glaring at her, pale eyes peering around a hank of greasy hair. His wet mouth worked as he sputtered for words. Ki’s stomach fell away. He, and everyone else in the room, thought that she had risen in body and voice to oppose him. An Olo draped on its Kerugi’s shoulders twittered into the silence.

A T’cherian in the corner dropped her serving tray and scuttled out a low door into the kitchen. Ki glanced after her, wondering at her haste. Vandien was struggling to his feet beside her. He jostled her roughly as he stooped and seized the edge of the sand table. With a heave he upended it, spilling sand and food in a cascade across the floor. His strong fingers closed on the shoulder of her blouse, tearing it, as he jerked her to the floor behind the table. The first missile hit the table with a solid thunk. Bits of broken pottery and splats of stew flew over the top.

Vandien’s hand went to his hip and came up empty. Even if his rapier had been there instead of on its hook in Ki’s wagon, it would have been little protection against flying pottery. Their short belt knives were useful for bread and cheese but little else. As three mugs and a serving dish hit the table, she and Vandien ducked at the same moment, rapping their heads together.

‘Damn,’ muttered Ki, rocking back on her heels as she saw sparks of light. Several low cries of triumph came from the entryway. Whoever had thrown the mugs felt they had scored. Ki peered around the corner of the table. No one had ventured into the T’cherian room yet. They all preferred to throw from the shelter of the doorway. A metal pitcher arched toward her. Ki ducked back as it clanged against the front of the table. Her eyes flew to Vandien’s. ‘What are we going to do?’ she demanded angrily as she saw his grin. ‘They’ve gone crazy!’

It was just like him to be merry at a moment like this. ‘I don’t know, but I promise never to stir with a knife again. What did you have planned, when you so aptly stirred them up?’

‘I was talking to you!’ In spite of herself, she felt her mouth twisting up into a wry grin to match his. ‘If you had been listening properly, I wouldn’t have had to shout.’

‘The tinker caught my ear.’ Vandien reached quickly around the end of the table, managed to snag his food dish. He sent it spinning across the room. It shattered against the door frame, and their opponents momentarily vanished. ‘It seemed to me that what he was saying was just as applicable to us as farmers and weavers. But…’ he cut in swiftly as Ki’s face darkened and she lowered her brows. ‘Now is not the time to renew that discussion.’ Ki groped around her end of the table and came up with her glass. She took hasty aim and hurled it. From the other room came the scuffling of feet as more ammunition was gathered. Vandien went on speaking calmly. ‘Your words were the perfect catalyst for the situation. Not one of them wanted to agree aloud with the tinker, for in their hearts they knew the foolishness of opposing the Windsingers. But he made them feel guilty and cowardly for such thoughts. Just when they would have had to agree with him, or slink off with their tails between their legs, here comes Ki to stand up and voice their craven opinion for them. Thus making it possible for them to take out all their frustrations on us, instead of turning it on themselves or the Windsingers.’

As he spoke, Vandien tried his strength against each table leg in turn. The short stout legs were firmly affixed to the sand table, possibly in foresight against situations like this one.

‘I don’t consider it a craven opinion,’ Ki hissed. ‘It’s common sense!’

‘Whatever!’ Vandien shrugged and ducked at the same time. A mug clipped the upper edge of the table and bounced from the wall to fall harmlessly beside him. He returned it quickly. ‘Shall we argue about it before or after they get up enough courage to rush us?’

‘All journeys begin from where you are!’ Ki grunted out the old Romni saying as she popped up, grabbed two jugs from the shelf behind them, and crouched down again.

‘Meaning all solutions start in the now, not by looking for someone to blame,’ Vandien said loftily as he snatched down ammunition of his own. ‘Ki, this is decent drink, a rare thing in Dyal. I know, for I’ve sampled around. You don’t mean to throw full jugs?’

‘Watch me!’ Ki retorted, and dared to stand to let one fly. She had the satisfaction of seeing it shatter on the door frame, drenching at least two of their attackers and sending flying shards of pottery across the room. Ki laughed as they cringed. The stinging odor of splashed Burgoon rose.

Vandien pulled her down barely in time; the basin that hit the wall behind her spattered them both with the brown slime of fermented Kessler beans. They gasped in the stench. Vandien’s reluctance for throwing full jugs vanished. Grabbing both of his, he rose and heaved them with a windmilling motion. Ki took advantage of his cover to seize two more jugs on the shelf. As they ducked together behind the table, several cries rose from the outer room. ‘We got one!’ Ki smiled savagely. As her eyes met Vandien’s, a spark jumped between them. This was dangerous, reckless, and above all a waste of good drink, but, damn, it was fun! The tension between them evaporated. The scar up Vandien’s face rippled with his shout of laughter as his flung jug took the tinker in the paunch and cleared him from the doorway.

Ki heard an ululation of dismay. From the low T’cherian door that led to the kitchen, a dark set of stalked eyes peered at them. The shrilling rose and fell. Other eyes ventured around the frame to peer in. The tavern keeper. Ki sent a bottle to smash against the kitchen door, and the T’cheria darted back to shelter. Maybe now that her stock was being destroyed, instead of metal cups and mugs bouncing about, she would take action.

Ki guessed correctly. Just as Vandien heaved the last jug they could reach without leaving the shelter of the table, she heard the warning shouts of the city guard outside the inn. The ruckus was over as suddenly as it had begun. Ki heard the rattle of retreating boots and shuffling Kerugi. Silence fell. She sent a delighted grin to Vandien that changed to a dismayed laugh as she tried to brush bean mash from her clothing. But Vandien’s face went suddenly blank, and she turned to follow the direction of his stare. The T’cherian tavern keeper stood in the doorway, flanked by two huge Brurjan. They wore the neck chains and harness of city guards. Their huge faces split in mirthless grins as the tavern keeper shrilled in lisping Common. ‘Those are the two! They started the riot, and must pay the full damages!’

It was full dark when Ki and Vandien emerged into the dusty street.

‘Where’d you leave the wagon?’

‘A clearing outside town. Looks like a house burned down there, and someone abandoned the land. Good pasturage still.’

They moved off down the street, taking long, swift strides. The night was rapidly becoming as chill as the day had been hot. Puffs of greyish road dust rose with every footfall.

‘How much did they leave us?’

‘Five dru.’ There was deep disgust in Ki’s voice. ‘After you settled for your room and meals…’

‘At a reasonable price,’ Vandien interjected.

‘After you went to get your gear, the innkeeper reckoned up the damage – not only what we did, but also what the others did. The innkeeper told the guard that, but for my arguing, the tinker would have had his little drunk and done no harm. And she insisted that the jugs of Burgoon we threw held Sheffish brandy.’

‘What?’ Vandien stopped and rounded on her, aghast.

‘Yes.’ She confirmed it grimly. ‘That’s what took most of the money. I had no way to prove it was Burgoon. Arguing with a Brurjan did not appeal to me.’

‘I doubt if there is a drop of Sheffish brandy in this whole town, let alone jugs of it.’

‘Nonetheless,’ Ki replied, ‘if she was going to be paid for liquor spilled and soaking into the floorboards, why not be paid for fine Sheffish brandy instead of cheap Burgoon? The Brurjan saw it her way.’

‘Moon’s blood.’ Vandien spat. They resumed their striding pace. The streets were all but deserted, and few lights showed from slit windows. Door hides had been dropped and tied over the slats. Beggar dogs ran free in the streets, sniffing out whatever they could. An odd sort of peace welled up in the shuttered town.

‘Well. We may as well push on toward Bitters tomorrow, then,’ Vandien ventured.

Ki glanced over at him. ‘Why Bitters? I plan to pull my team and wagon into the hiring mart tomorrow and take whatever is offered. Five dru will not keep the team long in grain. I’ve almost run out of supplies myself. I can’t go on to Bitters on the chance of work there, and arrive completely coinless.’

‘But just beyond Bitters is False Harbor. There we would have food and lodging, for a few days, and a chance to find work afterwards.’

She rolled her eyes at him. ‘Will you put that out of your head? Hasn’t it brought us enough trouble?’

‘You perhaps. Not me. Having given my word, I intend to see it through.’

‘Not with my team,’ she said flatly.

‘Of that I’m aware, my friend. So it must be another. Which means that I had best start for False Harbor immediately, to allow myself time to rent or borrow a team in Bitters.’

‘Rent?’ Ki asked incredulously.

‘Payment conditional upon my getting paid.’ Vandien shrugged off the difficulty.

‘Well, if anyone could talk a team owner into a deal like that, you could.’

‘Unless I were trying to convince my friend.’

She flinched to his barb. ‘Are you actually angry about this, Vandien?’

‘No!’ He gave a sudden snort of laughter. His sinewy arm hooked suddenly around her waist. They strode on, hips bumping. ‘Just shy of doing it alone. What you have said makes a great deal of sense. Arriving with a starved team would make our chance of doing the impossible even slimmer. No, Ki, it’s just that there are things I do best when I am in your company…like making a fool of myself.’

‘It is a talent we share,’ she admitted with a low laugh.

Then she sighed. ‘What say you to this, Vandien: I’ll take what work I can find now, but when I’ve coin in my pocket again, I’ll join you in False Harbor. If I’m in time for their low tide, I’ll watch you make a fool of yourself. But I’ll be damned if I’ll help you. Damn Rifa’s eyes!’

‘She still hasn’t forgiven you for taking up with such a stray dog; especially since I give you no children.’

‘I’ve had my children,’ Ki said shortly. Vandien veered from the topic.

‘I’d best leave for Bitters right away, then.’

In reply, Ki put her arm around his waist, gripping his belt just above the hip. The strength of her hug knocked him off stride. She smelled the fern sweet smell of him, like a new mown pasture in twilight when the warmth of the day rises from it. For an instant she seemed apart from all things, seeing only his dancing dark eyes, feeling the springy mass of his unruly dark curls on the back of his neck, touching the firmness of his mouth beneath the soft moustache. ‘Not immediately,’ she told him gruffly. ‘Tomorrow morning.’ The wagon loomed before them in the darkness, and Sigurd lifted his great grey head in a whinny of greeting.

TWO

The boy worked his way through the breathless market stalls, his bare feet raising puffs of hot dust. The cries of hawkers and the muted arguments of the bargainers only made the day hotter. How could folk trade on a day such as this? Yet they did, and he worked at his own small craft, the carrying of messages through the congested town. Too soon, he knew, the sudden storms of autumn would come. Then he would long for hot dry days like this as he slogged through rain and mud. He licked his dusty lips and wriggled through a knot of farmers.

He was in the hiring end of the market now. Harvest workers stood about, shovels and scythes resting beside them, hoping some late harvester would come seeking them. But it had been a dry year, as the Windsingers had threatened. Most farmers had found it short work to harvest the paltry crops the earth had let forth. The boy sought no harvest workers.

Beyond them were the teams for hire. Teamsters stood restively in this shadeless place, trying to keep the buzzing green flies from stinging their pawing, shuffling beasts. The boy skirted the tossing horns of a team of oxen, and made a quick jump away from a yellow-toothed nag that snapped at him. The teamster laughed, baring teeth as stained as his animal’s. It was not hard to spot the one he sought.

Her tall painted wagon stuck up high above the buckboards and dog carts of the others, but the hind end of her wagon was flat and bare, awaiting a cargo to haul. Her team did not stand and sweat in harness, but were tethered in what small shade the wagon offered. The teamster herself dozed on the high seat. The boy lost all respect for her. A careless fool, to doze thus in the middle of a busy market day when every second person on the street was a thief. He stood in the center of the street and looked up at her. Her voluminous blue skirts made her look even smaller than she was. Her embroidered blouse was damped with sweat. The brown hair that fell to her shoulders curled away from her forehead in damp tendrils.

His bare feet were soundless in the deep dust of the street. He reached up a hand to tug at her skirt hem. Her green eyes opened and fixed him with a stare when his hand still hovered by her skirt. ‘Cat eyes!’ hissed the boy, and jerked his hand away without making the intended tug.

‘You wanted something of me?’ Ki asked, ignoring his strange greeting.

‘Not I, teamster. I am but sent to say, “If you wish to work for fair wages and a good client, bring your wagon to the black stone building, at the end of the road that runs past the smithy shops and cask makers.” Have you any questions, teamster?’

‘Who lives in the black building, boy?’

The boy squirmed. ‘I do not know.’

‘What am I to haul?’

‘I do not know that, either.’

Ki looked down to the upturned tanned face, at the worn tunic dangerously short on the sprouting youth. ‘Why do you ask if I have any questions, if you have no answers?’

The boy shrugged. ‘It is what we say, after we have given the message. In case you did not understand what was said.’

‘I see.’ Ki fished in the flat purse at her belt and came up with one of the copper shards she had received in change from her last dru. She had spent it this morning for grain for herself and her team. She doubted the copper was enough for the customary tip, but it was all she had. She flipped it through the air and the boy caught it adroitly. He started to slip it into his pouch, but hesitated unwillingly. ‘The one who sent me paid all in advance, even the receiver’s tip. She said she doubted you would have enough.’ He tossed the small bit of metal up to Ki, but she batted it back to him with a quick flip of her hand. ‘Keep it, boy. I, too, am afflicted with an honest nature, and know how seldom one is rewarded for it.’

The boy gave her a flash of white teeth in a surprised grin. He darted off with a flash of white buttocks before the teamster could change her mind.

Ki stretched, and wiped a layer of dust and sweat from her forehead. Clambering from the seat, she began to coax the great grey horses into their harness. She wished she knew more about her mysterious patron, including how she knew Ki was perilously low on coin. She could no longer be fussy about whom she worked for. She didn’t like to think that others might know that. It attracted hard bargains and semi-legal hauls.

Sigmund stood stoically in his place but Sigurd leaned and shifted as she strove to arrange leather and fasten buckles. He had grown fractious from three boring days of standing in the hot market waiting for someone to hire them. Ki jerked the final strap flat. ‘By nightfall, I’ll have you too tired for such tricks,’ she warned the great grey animal. He snorted skeptically.

She climbed up on the box and gave the reins a flip, easing the wagon forward. She edged it out into the center of the street, and then stood on the seat, shouting for the right of way. Hawkers and buyers gave way before her grudgingly. The wagon rumbled slowly through the market amid a chorus of curses at the dust it raised. Ki set her jaw and shook the reins slightly to encourage the team. Sweat began to stain their coats a darker grey.

Finding the street of smithy shops was easy. The clang of hammers falling on red metal was a sound that carried far on a hot day. Ki pitied the apprentices working bellows to blow coals red to white. Stifling waves of heat rolled out from the sheds to assault her and her team as they plodded past. She was grateful when the smithies gave way to barrel makers. But she passed the last of the cask makers’ shops and no black building was in sight. Instead, her wagon creaked past tottering and empty wooden buildings, where not even beggars moved. This dead section of a busy town bothered her, until she passed the dried-up public well. In a climate of seasonal extremes, she, too, would wish to live by a ready source of water.

The lumber of the old buildings had shrunk and twisted away from the framing in silvery splinters. This had to be one of the oldest parts of Dyal. Instead of the dangling door slats currently popular, grey slab doors sagged or sprawled on splintery thresholds. These, and the height of the archaic rectangular window holes, told her that this part of Dyal had been built by a Human population. The wide, winding streets were a Human preference. Kerugi engineered straight, narrow streets and crowded through them like seething insects in a hive.

The street gave one more twist. She spotted her building. Black stone walls reared up above the shaky grey buildings, as if they feared that prying eyes might breach their fastness and steal away their secrets. The huge black stones of the walls had been dressed by masons into precise cubes. They fitted mortarless together, with no chink for moss or for a scrabbling sneak thief. They glistened unweathered, but the huge dead tree that twisted by the wall had branches bent awry by that stony fastness. The tree had sprouted, grown and died in the shade of the wall. Lightning had blackened it before its reaching branches had equalled the height of the walls.

A pair of wide gates, their timbers stained as black as the stone, gaped open. The team slowed outside them. Sigurd snorted and chewed his bit. Ki slapped the reins firmly on the wide grey backs, and with another snort from Sigurd the wagon creaked forward into the courtyard.

The inner courtyard looked as abandoned as the grey wooden buildings. Uprooted brush had rolled into all corners to settle against the walls. Dead trees stood as markers to what had once been careful plantings. The black stone mansion was impervious to the dead courtyard it centered. Ki halted her team and let her eyes drift up the high walls. Rectangular Human style windows gaped dark, high overhead. The ground floor level showed no openings for windows, nor for anything else, save one stout wooden door. The stretch of wall above the high windows was likewise smooth. Whatever chambers were within must do without the light of the sun.

‘Cheery place,’ Ki remarked to her horses.

‘Well. Am I to stand all day holding the door open, awaiting my lady’s pleasure, while every stinging thing that flies finds its way in?’

Ki jerked at the waspish voice. Her eyes snapped to the black door held ajar by a black-gowned old dame. Her look was as sour as her greeting. She reminded Ki of a gallows bird, with her wattled neck and snapping black eyes.

‘Did you send for a teamster?’ Ki asked, hoping this was an error.

‘Yes, but I suppose you’ll do. Does your rump come loose of that plank, or do your folk customarily bargain out in the sun?’

Silently Ki set her wheel brake. She gave her team a gruff command to stand and clambered down from the wagon. This was going to be bad. And without a dru in her purse, she was going to have to swallow it.

The house matron did not wait for her, but set off down the hallway as soon as Ki approached the door. Ki shut the door behind herself, with perhaps a louder thump than necessary. She had to hasten down the tall corridor to follow those swishing black skirts. Sunlight was left behind, and the few sconces were widely spaced and badly tended. Ki’s shadows stretched and snapped about her, and her boots rang hollowly as she strode along. The matron turned a sudden corner. Ki broke into a half-trot lest she lose sight of her.

But as Ki turned the same corner, she found herself within an immense chamber. There were no signs of servants or other house folk. The ceiling was implausibly high; the echo of her boots bounced back at her. Grey daylight fell into the room from one of the windows she had glimpsed outside. The watery beams dimly lit a small carven table in the center of the room. It was the only furniture in the cavernous place. The house matron stood beside it and dust motes danced over it.

She halted, looking about uncertainly. How could one bargain in such a place? There were no chairs in which one could lounge disinterestedly, no wine or ale to sip to cover up a moment of thought. Ki would have been more comfortable doing this business in the sun from her wagon. Bird-eyes gave her no time to reflect.

‘You are to take the freight from Dyal to Bitters. Seven crates. They must be delivered before four days have passed from tomorrow. That you must agree to, or pay the consequences. Four days will give the servants time to put the new place in order before the belongings arrive. But we shall not want to do without them for any longer than that.’

‘I’ve not said that I’ll work for you,’ Ki pointed out quietly.

‘I never said I wished you to! Nor would I, if the choice were mine. But the Master has picked you, and won’t be swayed from his decision.’