I invite all men, bold and unafraid, to join me in taming this wild and beautiful land. Noble born yet dispossessed of their ancestral lands by the long years of calamity may repair their fortunes. Merchants and craftsmen impoverished by recent constrictions of trade may find both new markets and new resources. The commonalty with but broad backs and strong arms to offer will find their labours rewarded with unencumbered land to till for themselves.
Let none who sail shirk any duty from false expectation of privilege. Respect is to be earned in this new land just as surely as bread and meat will reward those who sow and those who hunt. Those that meet and exceed their obligations will rise, not to be held back by those who will not make shift for themselves or the dead weight of outmoded custom. Every man will be called upon to shoulder responsibility both for himself and his fellows.
I do not promise ease or luxury. I offer you toil and sweat. What such labour will win you is an untrammelled future and the right to make of that all that you can, in the certain knowledge of full title to pass all you might gain on to your heirs and assigns.
Suthyfer, Fellaemion’s Landing,
29th of For-Summer
Some mercenaries can carry balance and coordination learned in close-quarter fighting over into dancing. A lot can’t but that never seems to stop them. I watched ragged squares and circles form and break and hurriedly change direction, cries ringing above the miscellany of pipes and drums. A reasonable excuse for music rose into the late afternoon sky along with a sudden burst of laughter as three mercenaries got the figure spectacularly wrong.
“Do you reckon they’ll have it right by Solstice?” I asked, amused. “Or are we celebrating mid-summer early for some reason?” I’d been out with a hunting party since first light and hadn’t expected to find an impromptu festival on our return.
“Just a little merrymaking to mark the double full moon.” Halice waved an expansive hand towards the spits by the shoreline where Minare’s lads were roasting joints from the impressive array of game we’d culled from the islands’ forests. Rosarn and Deglain were busy around a collection of pots seething roots and spices and a large cauldron frothed with boiling shellfish. Dotted with whatever early fruits the woods had to offer, huge slabs of travel bread baked on scrubbed boards propped to catch the heat of the fires.
“Have a drink.” Halice offered me a horn cup.
I sniffed suspiciously but was agreeably surprised by the fragrance of Califenan red. “This isn’t something Vaspret’s been concocting from berries, sugar and hope.”
“D’Alsennin had the Maelstrom load up what was left of his cellar.” Halice gestured towards the ships at anchor in the strait. “There was plenty of space for the return voyage.”
“They made good time on the journey.” I took an appreciative swallow. “If Temar’s emptied his cellar, he’ll be in the market to buy some wine from me, just as soon as Charoleia gets a cargo organised.”
“You’d better think what else you’re going to ship over,” said Halice with some amusement.
I didn’t understand. “How so?”
Halice’s grin broadened. “D’Alsennin’s latest decree: anyone bringing luxuries over to sell has to pay for the privilege with a few of the boring essentials that barely pay for their carriage.”
“Nails and the like?” I’d heard Ryshad bemoaning their lack often enough. “Whose bright idea was this?”
“Grandsire D’Alsennin’s apparently. Seems this was his rule when the House had properties scattered over half Dalasor.” Halice, ever the warrior, had her own notion of necessities. “I’d suggest bow staves and a wagon load of arrows myself
“I’ll write to Charoleia,” I said without enthusiasm.
“She’ll be turning all this news to advantage first.” Halice surveyed the landing site. No trace of the stockade remained and Ryshad’s involvement meant the properly built wooden huts replacing the debris of the pirates’ brief occupation already had a determined air of permanence.
“She’s plenty of titbits to tempt the right folk to open their purses.” I looked over to the empty gibbet black against the sky. The last of the hanged had been cut down and thrown to the sharks. “How do you think the Inglis guilds will react to news of Muredarch’s death?”
“Temar will be writing to their council.” Halice looked amused. “Claiming the bounty on Muredarch’s head as well as setting out the concessions on tariffs he expects for doing them such a service.”
“That’s certainly what Charoleia would recommend,” I laughed. “Whose idea was it?”
“Sorgrad may have given him a hint but the lad’s getting the bit between his teeth good and proper.” She looked around for Temar. “We’d best keep an eye out for him tonight. He’s a fair few unpleasantnesses to drown and this is the first chance he’s allowed himself.”
“The double full moon’s as good an excuse as any.” It was a solid gold certainty this was Halice’s idea, to give us all a night to eat, drink and forget the tribulations of this past half season. Those that could be were reunited; those bereaved could share their grief. What property could be restored had been and Temar had made handsome restitution for the losses from Muredarch’s coffers. Tonight, the moons, greater and lesser could shine down on some uncomplicated fun and then Halcarion would show us all a new path to follow. All of us, every last one of Kellarin’s people now that Guinalle had roused the last of Edisgesset’s sleepers with the artefacts we had brought back.
I realised Halice was looking askance at me. “What?”
“Will you be crawling inside a wineskin and tying it closed behind you?” Halice challenged.
“No,” I told her firmly. “It’s not worth the morning after, even drinking D’Alsennin’s finest.”
Still, splitting headaches and a sour stomach had been small price to pay for the oblivion I’d won from liquor scrounged from the mercenaries on our return. Ryshad had convinced Halice to leave me be, put me to bed when my words slurred into incoherence, found me cold water, dry bread and a shady place to regret my folly the following day. He had understood the paralysing fear of going to sleep only to find myself back in the confines of Artifice, terrified that waking would find me still locked within my own head, someone else ruling my limbs. Halice nodded with satisfaction and poured me more wine.
“Has he said anything about Ingella?” I asked.
“Temar?” Halice shook her head. “He did well there, when it came to it.”
“Justice is a Sieur’s duty.” I glanced involuntarily at the gibbet. “Mind you, I don’t think it did him any harm, for people to see how reluctant he was to hang a woman.”
“Not as long as he went through with it.” Halice’s voice was hard. “She was condemned beyond question.”
Ingella and the other survivors of Muredarch’s scum had faced Temar’s assize. He’d judged them with grim-faced authority, impressing us all. Unsavoury duty done, he deserved all the wine he wanted to blot out memories of the condemned struggling, weeping and cursing their way to the gallows.
“It’s not for us to look out for Temar,” I pointed out to Halice. “That’s Allin’s job these days.”
Halice chuckled into her cup. “That news in the right quarter should be gold for Charoleia.”
I raised an eyebrow at her. “How do you think the noble Houses of Toremal will react to a wizard as maitresse to Temar’s Sieur?”
“We’re the other side of the ocean and there’s nothing they can do about it,” said Halice with considerable satisfaction.
“They’re wedding at Solstice?” I asked. “Here or in Vithancel?” That would forestall any prince wanting to make trouble but I couldn’t help feeling Allin deserved better than such a rushed affair.
“No, it’ll be autumn Equinox,” Halice told me. “With all honour to Drianon in the old style, all the Sieurs and their ladies and esquires invited to Vithrancel.”