Legacies (10 page)

“Alucius?” Royalt's whisper wakened the younger man immediately.

“I'll be right there, sir.”

“There's not as much hurry this morning. You need to wash up and wear your better outfit. You're going into Iron Stem with your mother today.”

Alucius frowned as he climbed out of his bed and eased toward the ladder. For more than a season, his grandfather had not allowed him a single day of respite from the glass of grueling training that had begun every day. “Is there something wrong?” He leaned over the opening through which the ladder rose, looking down in the dimness of early harvest at his grandsire.

Royalt grinned. “You could use a day off, and so could I. Your mother would also like your company—and your strong back.”

“Yes, sir.” Alucius couldn't quite conceal the relief in his voice.

Below, he could hear his grandfather's snort, but the expression concealed amusement, rather than anger.

After laying out his better trousers and shirt and the vest he'd gotten a month earlier, Alucius started down the ladder. He had to wonder, and not just about the need for his strong back, but he wasn't about to complain. Perhaps he could even have a moment while they were in town to see Wendra.

He was still wondering when he sat down for breakfast and looked across the table at his mother. “What are we going to do in Iron Stem?”

“Now that the harvest produce is coming in, the prices in town are going down, and it's a good time to lay in goods and stock for the winter.” Lucenda handed the basket of biscuits to him.

Alucius took one and passed the basket to his grandmother.

“Thank you, Alucius,” Veryl said.

“Most people don't realize what's coming yet,” Royalt added. “To them, those who know, it's a story. Been so long since we've had a real fight that most folk don't understand.”

“Don't some people?” asked Alucius.

“There are some. Kustyl sees it, and so do his offspring, I'd wager, since he'd beat it into them. Gortal does. He's been charging the Lanachronans more for dreamdust…”

“…price of cartridges has been going up. Good thing we've got plenty…”

“…not the price of flour…not yet…”

As Alucius swallowed the last fragment of egg toast, his mother looked at him. “Will you get the wagon ready? Make sure that we have the oilcloth tarps in the back. It doesn't look like rain, but…if something blows up, we'd not want goods spoiled.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Alucius eased his chair back.

As he left the house, he did smile as he caught a few words.

“…good boy…”

“…getting to be a man…”

In walking to the stable, Alucius studied the sky. There were thin hazy clouds across the silver-green of the heavens, but nothing that augured rain. Still, the first thing he did was fold the oilcloth tarps and put them in the wagon bed. He was hitching the dun dray horses to the wagon when Royalt appeared with two leather cases in his arms. “Better take a brace of rifles.”

“You think we might see brigands?”

“If I did, I'd be with you two, but it's more likely than it's been for years. Besides, now you know enough that the rifles are safe with you.” Royalt laid the cased rifles in the wagon bed behind the seat. “The magazines are full, and there are spares in the cartridge packs. Need to talk to your mother. Bring the wagon up to the house.”

“Yes, sir.”

Royalt strode off back toward the house.

After Alucius hitched the team and set the rifles and their cases in the brackets mounted beside each seat, he drove the team up to the house. There Royalt was talking to Lucenda.

“I'd like ten half-barrels, and five full ones—if Kyrial can have them ready in the next two weeks. If he has any, take what you can get. Order the rest. You know what to get for stocks.”

Lucenda nodded. “We'll do the best we can.” She turned and climbed up into the right seat and turned to her son. “You can drive, if you'd like.”

“You don't mind?”

“Drive,” his mother said with a laugh.

Royalt laughed as well.

Neither spoke until they were a good quint down the lane from the stead.

“Your grandfather says that you're coming along well.”

“It doesn't feel that way,” Alucius admitted. “Every time I learn something, he shows me another way to overcome what I just learned.”

“How old are you, Alucius?”

“A little past seventeen. You know that.”

“How old is your grandsire?”

“Ten quints or more.”

“He was with the militia almost eight years in the Border Wars. Are you going to learn everything he knows in less than two seasons?”

Alucius looked down, then back at the road and the team. After a time, he spoke again. “Grandsire's worried, isn't he?” He knew that. He wanted to hear what his mother had to say.

“He is.”

“But we've fought before, and won.”

“When he was young, the militia fought off the Lanachronans. They really didn't want to take over the Iron Valleys. They just wanted the sources of the nightsilk and to get rid of the dreamdust. But if the Matrites are going to take over the Westerhills, then it won't be long before they'll take the Iron Valleys. Or the Lanachronans will ride north to keep out the Matrial.”

“We could fight them off,” Alucius suggested.

Lucenda laughed. The sound was harsh. “How many cities do we have, Alucius?”

“Dekhron's pretty big, and then there's Iron Stem and Soulend…”

“Dekhron would fit in less than the trade quarter of Hieron or Tempre. Madden holds the entire coast up to Northport and all the Sloughs east to the Westerhills. The Matrites took over the Salceran lands more than thirty years ago. Only Southgate has held out so far—if they still have.”

“You make it sound like we're a nightram caught between sanders and sandwolves, between the Matrites and the Lanachronans.”

“That's a fair description of the situation,” his mother replied dryly.

Alucius was silent for a time, as he considered her words.

“You make it sound hopeless,” he finally said.

“We don't have enough militia to invade and defeat them. Thank the soarers, we don't have to. We only have to make it so difficult for either the Matrites or the southerners that it's easier to leave us alone. That's what happened with the Border Wars.”

“Should we be fighting now?”

“The Council has discussed that, Temra told me, but we'd have to fight through the Reillies and the other hill clans—or trust them as allies.” Lucenda's face turned bleak, and her lips twisted on the word “allies.”

Alucius wasn't quite sure what else to say on that, and didn't.

Before too long the dustcat enclosures came into view on the left.

“Has a dustcat ever escaped?” asked Alucius, wanting to break the silence.

“Not that I know of. I wish they'd all escape. Filthy habit.”

“I thought that all the dreamdust was sold to the Lanachronans.”

“It is, but the scutters want it so much that they'll work for almost nothing.”

“Aren't they…well…people who…maybe…”

“People who are mostly worthless? Is that what you're asking?”

Alucius flushed.

“They are when they've become scutters. They'll do anything. I knew some girls—they're women now. They'll do things that even the worst slut in the Pleasure Palace wouldn't, just to keep working where they can sniff the dreamdust. And the men are worse.” Lucenda's voice carried a chill Alucius seldom had heard.

While there was a single mount tied up outside the Pleasure Palace, Alucius saw no one outside as he drove the team past the barnlike building that was anything but a palace. His eyes had still lingered on the bright green spire that soared heavenward, far taller than anything else in Iron Stem, seemingly taller than anything except the plateau itself. He still wondered what the ancients had used the tower for, so magnificent was it, especially in comparison to anything else within hundreds of vingts.

Once they had passed the Pleasure Palace, Lucenda said, “I thought we might stop by the cooper's first. Your grandfather wanted me to order more barrels. He thinks we need to put aside more flour, and a barrel of rice.”

“Rice? That's costly.” Alucius wasn't about to say anything about seeing Wendra.

Lucenda nodded. “It is, but if you keep it dry, it will hold for years without spoiling. Then, after the cooper's, we'll see what we can find in the way of supplies, first in the square, and then out at Amiss's mill.”

As was always the case during harvest season, there were more people in Iron Stem—or so it seemed to Alucius as he guided the team down the north road toward the square. The shutters of most cottages were open, and the hammermill was in full operation, with its muffled but thundering
clangs
, and the acrid odor of hot metal spilling out across the road.

He slowed the wagon when they entered the north side of the square, quickly counting the carts and wagons in the center paved area—almost twenty, and some were piled high with maize and apples and other produce.

“Looks like there's some good produce.”

“I don't see any rice or beans, but some of them are still setting up. We'll have to come back and look closely. Put the wagon on the side street by the loading dock there.”

Alucius nodded and guided the wagon into the indicated spot on the side of the deep building that held the cooperage. Then he set the wagon brakes, and secured the rifles in the locker under the seat. The lock was simple, but was sufficient for midday in Iron Stem. After that, he took the harness restraint ropes and tied the two dun geldings to the stone post.

Kyrial looked up from the work bench as the two entered the front of the shop. “Lucenda! We haven't seen you in almost a season.”

“We've been working hard, and there aren't ever enough hands to run a stead.” Lucenda smiled politely. “We're also looking for some more barrels.”

“Barrels I have.” The cooper shook his head, then looked at Alucius, before lowering his voice as he continued. “With the trouble in the Westerhills…I ordered in more wood from Dekhron, and made barrels that I didn't have orders for. But so far, no one seems worried.”

Lucenda laughed. “Father wants five full barrels and five half. Do you have that many?”

Kyrial smiled. “How about four full barrels and five half right now, and the other full one in a week?”

“How much?”

“The usual. A half-silver for the full, and four coppers for the half-barrels.” The cooper grinned. “Not a good time for the millrights in Dekhron, and I got a good price on the wood.” The grin vanished. “That'll change by fall, but I've got another order in with a fixed price.”

“The terms are good,” Lucenda agreed, “If you'll add two more half barrels, and hold all three of those you haven't finished until we get into town again.”

“Done.”

To their right, a squeaking of the opening door and then a thump indicated that someone else had entered the cooper's shop.

Kyrial glanced toward the door.

A faint smile crossed Lucenda's lips, and she said, “We've put off replacing the solvent barrels for too long, but you know Royalt—he hates to part with coin.” She looked up abruptly at the newcomer, a man of medium height and build, wearing gray trousers, and a silver-gray vest over a while silk shirt. “Oh…Gortal…I didn't hear you come in.” She inclined her head to Alucius. “Have you met my son Alucius?”

Alucius inclined his head, managing a pleasant smile, rather than the frown he felt. “Sir.”

“Pleasure to meet you, young Alucius.” Gortal's voice was calm, polite, and emotionless.

Kyrial nodded to Gortal. “Your lined and sealed lorken quarter barrels are ready.”

“Good. I've got my wagon on the side.” He nodded to Lucenda, “Just behind yours, I believe.”

“Most probably.”

Kyrial looked to Lucenda. “If you wouldn't mind…it will only be a few moments.”

“Go ahead.”

After the two men left, Alucius looked to his mother. “Neither you nor Kyrial like him.”

“He's the owner of the dustcat farms. He has been since his father died two years ago.”

“That shirt must have cost a gold itself,” Alucius said.

“I wouldn't doubt it. The Lanachronans pay dearly for dreamdust.” Lucenda glanced toward the rear of the shop. “Why don't you head into the back and say a word to Wendra? She's peeked in here several times. I'll call you when we're ready to load the barrels.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'll call you. Don't fret about that.” Lucenda cleared her throat. “Alucius…”

“Yes?”

“Her mother's name is Clerynda. You might have forgotten.”

Alucius grinned. “Thank you.” He inclined his head to his mother, and walked toward the door to the rear, noticing that it was ajar. He opened it gingerly, and stepped into the back room.

Wendra was standing at a table, holding a pair of shears.

“I hope I'm not interrupting,” Alucius began, offering, first, a head bow to the squarish gray-haired woman who sat behind a treadle-operated machine, and, second, one to Wendra.

“We are working,” Wendra said, but there was a hint of a smile in her eyes and words. She set down the shears, and half-turned. “Mother, this is Alucius. Alucius, this is my mother.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma'am.” He offered.

“I'm pleased to see you again, young man. Wendra has wondered when you might be in town—”

The green-eyed girl blushed. “Mother…”

“Hush. What is, is. No sense in making over it. You be here long, Alucius?”

“Not too long, ma'am.”

“Why don't you two just go upstairs to the rear parlor? Leave the stair door open, and we can call you when we need you.”