If Crows Know Best (Mage of Merced Book 1) Read online

  Cobbel spoke up, a rare event. “We’re unable to act on anything until we know more. Won’t we have to take a risk before we can plan action? How long can we stay holed-up on this mountain?”

  “We’re free men, put it to a vote,” I suggested.

  “A vote!” Wils said, the way you would say “A dog turd!” when you stepped in it. Gevarr burst out laughing. We sometimes forgot ourselves, and discussed plans in the kitchen by his alcove that we should have talked over out of his earshot. Still, he often contributed a thought on what Keltanese military protocol might be employed by the occupation force, as if it was neither here nor there to him what we did about it.

  “All those in favor?” I pressed. Virda, Perk, Cobbel, Miskin, and I put our hands up. Annora and Wils crossed their arms, and Beckta looked uncertain. Gevarr stuck his hand out of his barrier quilt, and Wils snapped, “You don’t get to vote.” He withdrew it with a smothered snort.

  “The ayes still carry the day,” Perk said, eyes glinting. Wils grabbed handfuls of hair on either side of his head and groaned.

  The next fair day, Virda, Wieser and I set out for Bale Harbour.

  CHAPTER 22

  Deep ruts from wagon tracks marked the Harbour Road as soon as we walked east of the village. We had not wanted to risk having Dink taken from us, so traveled on foot. At least the mud had a dried crust atop, so we did not have too hard a way to make.

  Virda carried a large bag of spun yarn which she would say, to any who asked, that she planned to trade for needles and yard goods. I carried pelts to trade for woodworking tools, which would be scarce, I knew. Wieser walked beside me, never straying. Though to be sure there were lots of new smells she would have investigated if left on her own. Her nose twitched like mad. Several times we had to clamber up the weedy banks to let large cargo wagons pass. Each outbound one had two mounted soldiers behind.

  We entered town the way we had left it after the wedding, discovering as we did so a stone wall being erected over the ruins of a slap-dash wooden barricade at the edge of town. More wagons rumbled past us, loud on the cobbles. Virda led the way through busy folk hurrying here and there. Watchful soldiers walked in pairs among them. We were descending to the wharves when she turned aside into a street of shops topped by leaning overstoreys supported by timbers. Whitewashed walls surrounded small windows. Halfway up the street, she stopped and knocked on a peeling green door.

  “Guthy,” she called, and the door flung open to show a cloud of frizzy, ash-grey hair above a round, beaming face. The lady within pulled Virda into a rib-crunching embrace in the doorway, and waved me through from behind Virda’s back. While Virda and Guthy yattered about wrinkles, waistlines and new grey hair, I set down my pelts, bade Wieser sit, and looked about.

  Guthy’s place seemed like a cross between an inn and a home. The large room where we stood held a long table with a dozen chairs, instead of smaller round tables with a few chairs around each. I had never stayed at an inn, but Wils described them to me after he and Da traveled to markets. A fire burned in a wide deep hearth, where a pot hung suspended over the flames. Pitchers stood on the mantel, along with fat tallow candles in greenish copper candlesticks. A door stood open across the room, where stairs rose into the shadows. Beside the stairway, a swing-hinged half door led through to the kitchen. The place smelled of meat roasting and lye soap. Wieser licked her lips, but not for the soap scent, I reckoned.

  “But this can’t be another of your boys, Virda. Are you sending the rest of the village sons to sea now?” Guthy chuckled, and seized me by the shoulders.

  “The sea has had enough from me! This is my neighbor’s boy. Judian, say hello to Donah Guthy.”

  I ducked my head and said, “How do you do, Donah.” She squinted into my eyes, and nodded at whatever she saw there.

  “Let’s get you settled upstairs, and then think where you can trade your goods. A person has to tread wisely these days, I’m telling you.” Guthy let go of me and bustled toward the door to the upper floor.

  “Will it be all right for my dog to come with us?” I asked. “She is too valuable to leave in the street or board in a stable.”

  “Guthy’s place making room for country dogs,” Guthy mused. “And why not, since I’ve had to make room for Keltanese dogs often enough of late.” She looked over her shoulder, as if she checked for some unwelcome listener, and led on.

  I waited until she showed us into a tiny, gabled room above the front door before asking, “Are some of the troops staying here, as well?”

  “The officers bided with Guthy for a while. The rank and file are bedded in stables and halls all over the town. Surly they are, too. Eat like warehouse rats, from what I hear. The officers had some better manners, but no one paid Guthy a copper for their keep. They took over one of the big merchant’s houses on the hill. The better to oversee things in the harbour, I have been told.” Guthy pulled back a worn counterpane from the single narrow bed. “I’ll have the kitchen girl bring you up a pallet, young man. And you’ll both be wanting to wash off the road grime before you come down and eat. I’ll send her with wash water and toweling, too.”

  I was well pleased with our chatty hostess, and shocked Virda by flinging my arm round her shoulders once we were alone. “We’re going to find out all sorts of useful information here. You had a brilliant idea, coming to Guthy’s!” She was still flustered when the kitchen girl knocked softly on our door.

  A frail-looking, mousy, doe-eyed girl stood at the door. She shrank away when Wieser came to sniff her. The pitcher of water she carried seemed almost too heavy for her to balance, since she was draped with blankets and towels in addition. I took the pitcher. Virda relieved her of the blankets and the rest. She gave a vague curtsey, then stammered, “D-did you see the battle when the s-soldiers came? They fought our troops further west, we heard. M-my da and brothers might have been there …”

  “Were your men folk in uniform? Or conscripted by our army to march west in the fall?” I said.

  The girl looked in a pitiful state. Virda commenced tsk-tsking and murmured “poor lamb” under her breath.

  “No-n-no uniforms, when they left.”

  “Then they did not fight the invaders on the west road. That was near Roicer, the village by our home. Our troops were in uniform there. Was there a battle here, when they reached the harbour?”

  “On the edge of town, our troops t-tried to turn the invaders away, but were too few. The barricade they put up w-was easily overcome. All was finished before the morning was out, and the other soldiers streaming through the streets, shouting and jeering. They t-took all of our soldiers away and locked them up in a warehouse near the docks. There were not many men left.” She dashed the back of her hand across her eyes, and curtseyed again. “Please to come down to the k-kitchen when you are ready. My mistress has some tea brewing.”

  We took our tea in the kitchen instead of the keeping room, and it felt more homey to me. Still, I was excited to be in the town and to have a job to do, rather than feeling homesick already. Tea at Guthy’s wasn’t only a hot drink, I found, but meat pies and savory bread and honey cakes, too. How much would our keep set us back? I had brought some coin, on Virda’s instruction, but began to wonder if I carried enough. I might have to sell my pelts, if any would buy, just so as to have more currency—and come home with no tools at all.

  We stepped into the street with our goods, directed by Guthy where to take them for the best value. Wieser and I followed Virda, who truly did know her way street and alley through the town. We were easily marked as country folk, with Virda’s shawl over her head and tucked into her waist after swathing her shoulders. I did not see town women wearing theirs that way, but only loosely over the shoulders instead. I wore a lighter weight wool cloak, and rough weave tunic and trousers. I saw finer cloth on the town folk. I had left my walking staff in our room, but carried my knife in my knee high boot.

  I smelled the sea, and fish mongers. Gulls called above, and I t
hought of Gargle. I had left him with stern instructions to perch on the highest part of the new barn frame, and warn the men if anyone approached. It would not do for soldiers to find five able men working at the Lebannen place. He hopped on the porch rail and clacked his beak as I walked away, but flew to his post before we left the yard. I had told Annora to give him treats if he did his job well—and if he quit harassing the hawks and owls answering Annora’s summons for courier training.

  I goggled at the forest of ship masts that came into view as we descended the stone steps to what Virda said was the quayside. I did not see how it could be less busy under the occupation, because if there had been more activity before, folk must have been jostling each other off the docks into the water below.

  Huge nets bulging with crates or sacks hung above the dock planks. Sweat-coated men drove creaking drays piled high with trunks. Bewildered oxen bellowed, swung in a sling over one ship’s railing. Sheep bleated from knocked together ramshackle pens on the back of another ship. How do they keep track of which is coming in to unload, and which to carry goods away, I wondered. I had never seen the like. I heard Mercedish spoken, of course, and also Keltanese. But many other tongues reached my ears in snatches, none of which I knew.

  “Virda, are they come from all over the world?” I asked.

  “Oh, aye. The ships do not need to anchor off shore here, and ferry cargo to and from land. This is the best port along the eastern shore for a great many miles.” She was smiling into the ocean breeze, wind lifting her hair where it strayed from her shawl. “My Davini was a ship’s master, and sailed the exploration voyages that opened trade routes across the sea. Oh, he was handsome in his shipmaster’s hat, carrying his scope glass. I lived in Bale Harbour, you see, before you were born, and raised my oldest sons here. When I had so many we were crowded, Davini bought us our mountain home.”

  “Are your sons shipmasters, too?”

  “No, no. But Lichan is a first officer, on the Moon Road.” I took this to be the name of his ship, as I saw lettering on the front sides of those we passed. “I’m that proud of him. Of them all, of course.”

  I made myself break off thinking what it would be like to sail all over the ocean seeing new sights, and attend to the work I had to do here. “Do you think we can find where our troops are being held?”

  “We can walk through the warehouse district, and see if we can tell. This way.”

  We spotted the prison used to hold our defeated soldiers, after we reached the looming brick buildings. Only one had maroon uniforms stationed at the wide wooden sliding doors. I worried we would draw notice, but there were just as many folks scurrying about their business on these streets, and we blended well enough. I drew Virda into the alley behind, where no guards watched since there was no door. I looked for something to collect to guide Annora’s messenger birds. No shrub or bush sprouted, nor even blade of grass poked up, between the cobbles and packed dirt. There was a window ledge overhead, with bars a bird might fit through. With Virda and Wieser posted at either corner, I climbed teetering empty crates to the window. Noisome smell wafted from inside. I hoped they were not all dead in there, but dare not call out for fear of being discovered clinging at the window. After scouring the ledge for something I might take to the birds, I pulled out my handkerchief and spit on it, then rubbed up some of the grime that coated the mortar ledge. I hoped it would be sufficient, and clambered down.

  “Remember Guthy said we must be back by curfew at dusk,” Virda said. I took back the pelts I had handed off to her for my climb.

  “Let’s at least try one of the places she suggested for your bartering, so we can say we did some of our business.”

  The yard good merchant’s storefront was well kept, but his shelves showed more space than goods. “More cloth is sent overseas than comes in, this season.” The toothy, bald shopkeeper fingered Virda’s yarn, and tugged on a strand to test its strength as he spoke. “I do not have linen, but I can give you a nice length of linsey-woolsey, and ten packets of pins, plus two packets of needles.”

  Virda bargained for more needles in greater variety and fewer pins altogether, then wanted to see the fabric and confirm how long a length he offered. Wieser and I watched out the shop window, observing the crowd and most especially the pairs of soldiers patrolling on foot. I would have liked to have overheard the orders they were sent out with—what were they supposed to watch for?

  Virda and the shopkeeper concluded their wrangling, and she packed her bag. I shouldered my pelts, and decided we ought to hang onto them so we would have an excuse for more exploring tomorrow.

  “Be sure to be back in your lodgings by curfew,” he called after us. “And bring me any more of your spinning in future.”

  “He must think he made out to his advantage,” I said to Virda as I helped her across a rut puddle.

  “He did no better than he ought. He needs goods. Too much is exported or sent west, he said. He has to rely on small country crafters to have anything to sell.”

  I was mulling this over, scanning the people who strode by us, when I saw a familiar man. Huddled in the doorway just across the street, was the polite soldier who had thanked Annora for feeding him at our place. He hadn’t seen me, or didn’t recognize me if he had. He stepped out of his doorway and down the opposite side of the street.

  “Walk this way, Virda. There’s someone I want to catch up.” We crossed as soon as traffic would allow, and followed his brown cloak. We had to walk faster and faster, maybe he could tell he was being pursued, though there were plenty of folk all around on the cobbles. I almost lost him when he turned abruptly into the close by the stockyards. I stepped after him into the dark, narrow alley, and Virda caught my arm.

  “This isn’t the best of places for a woman and child to be.” Brave Virda, she did not say she would not go in.

  “You wait here with Wieser,” I offered. “I’ll see if I can find him nearby.” I left them and stepped farther into the dank yellowish light. I had gone a dozen paces when I heard the scrape of a boot and a sharp breath. I ducked low, and avoided an arm across my throat. It was the soldier, wild-eyed and armed with a wooden club.

  “I just want to talk to you,” I said, backing up. “Remember, you were at our farm in the mountains?”

  He peered closer at my face, then brightened. “How fares your brother’s wife?”

  I knew he was taken with her. “She’s well. We avoided the invasion and got by with only a burned barn. How did you and your fellows fare?”

  “Mostly killed or captured. I got away, barely. Behring was dispatched west with mounted troops to go after your da. My squad was to aid in blockading the road into town, and more troops were to arrive to oppose the invaders if they came from the northwest. I don’t think any more of our men ever arrived. We were outmanned from the start.” He looked up at what little could be seen of the sky. “You have to get out of here before dark.”

  “I’m staying in town tonight. Can you meet me tomorrow at the doorway where I saw you just now? There is more I want to talk to you about.”

  He looked about him, left and right, then sighed. “I’ll be there at midmorning. Walk past and I’ll fall in with you. Don’t speak to me first, and if I do not fall in, walk on past and don’t come back.”

  As good as I was going to get, I saw. I nodded and clasped his hand, and said no more. Virda and Wieser both appeared eager to be collected for our walk to Guthy’s warm fire. My thoughts ground away the whole route, working out how to get best advantage from what I learned hour by hour in Bale Harbour.

  CHAPTER 23

  Guthy scolded us for cutting the time too fine when we arrived at her door, worry plain in her eyes.

  “What do they do to people caught out after curfew?” I asked her.

  “Who can say? The soldiers take them and they are seen no more. The harbour still works the night through, but no folk whatever are allowed on the streets.”

  We ate our supper at the long table
in the keeping room, joined by old men of varying degrees of toothlessness. There were six of them, and I could judge their number of teeth because they kept leering at Virda. I fairly choked on their pipe smoke after we finished the excellent goose. It would have been worth it if the fellows had been saying anything useful as they smoked, but most of their talk centered on days long gone by.

  I went to the kitchen to fix Wieser her share of food. The kitchen girl left off scrubbing a large soup pot, and found a meaty bone for my dog. She bade me give it to Wieser, though, seeming still unsure of her.

  “What’s your name?” I asked by way of easing her nerves.

  “I’m Honni Emeral.” She almost whispered, her eyes fixed on Wieser’s white teeth gnawing.

  “Do you live here, so you don’t have to go home after dark?”

  “Yes. After the invasion, my mum asked Guthy to keep me nights.”

  “I know you’re worried about your da and brothers. My da is gone west, too. My brother made it home, though.” Did Guthy feed the girl? She would cast a stick shadow. “I was watching today, at the quayside. Do you know who keeps track of all the ships and the cargoes?”

  “The harbourmaster,” she said promptly.

  “Is it the same man as before the invasion, or did the Keltanese replace him with their own?”

  Her focus shifted to me in earnest. “How would they have a harbourmaster experienced in such things, since they’ve n-never had a harbour?” There was more of a mind in there than she let on at first, and more spirit.

  “How do they get the Mercedian harbourmaster to do what they want? It seems such a big job, endless details. How would the Keltanese know if he kept goods back or deceived them in other ways?”

  “I heard they have his f-family imprisoned. His lady wife, and son and his wife, and their little boy. My friend worked in their house, and told me about when the soldiers came and t-took them away. Horrible!”