The Witch of Webs: Book 12 (The Wandering Inn), page 34
There she stood, surrounded by people who’d lost someone. All asking, wanting to know how the dead had fallen. And the [Witch] gave one answer: heroically.
It was a lie, and it was the truth. It was the only answer any decent person could give. And Wiskeria, as she adjusted her spectacles, tugged on her hat, bowed, and lied and told the truth, looked both relieved and in more pain than Durene could ever remember seeing someone. But she had stopped running. So Durene left her to it.
—–
The rest of the day, Durene worked. Not in bits or pieces, lending a hand here or catching a [Thief], but actually got down and worked. It wasn’t hard. There was no end of tasks to do, and Durene might be a [Paladin], but she was a [Farmer] too. Prost didn’t put her in any working group, so Durene did what she knew she could do best: lift things.
She was in the farms first. Or rather, the group clearing new land for fields. The [Woodcutters] had cleared a huge amount of land, but in their hurry to acquire lumber for the new houses going up, they’d neglected to remove the stumps and roots.
That meant the grumbling [Farmers] not assigned to sowing or tilling had to handle it. Durene had the chance to chat with some of them. They were all cut from the same cloth; [Farmers] who worked in the small villages weren’t high-level by and large, but they all dreamed of getting that rare Skill or having a few big harvests that helped them level up.
Many wouldn’t fulfill that dream, but they had more classes than just [Farmer]. You’d be a [Farmer] who specialized in a bit of [Blacksmithing] on the side for coin and to repair your tools, or one with a [Rancher] class, or perhaps a [Farmer] and a [Hunter].
They were hardy, and their grumbling was largely good-natured as they worked in the rain, uprooting stones and roots and hauling them off to wagons. The wood could be dried and used as firewood or bits for the [Carvers], and the stones were good for laying foundations or a cobblestone street, maybe. Durene knew it was a good sign that they were working with a will even in the rain.
“It ain’t nothing hard. In fact, I’d say I’m happier here than at my old farm, for all I miss it dearly. It’s a small place up north—but I’ll admit, it does my heart good seeing all those shoots coming up. I wish I had that Skill, but I’ll be content helping out until I level up.”
One old [Farmer], Rickmeld, chatted as Durene carefully dug around a large stump in the ground. He pulled some dirt back with a hoe, and Durene nodded.
“You like it here, Mister Rickmeld?”
“Compared to being ate by a Goblin for lunch? Yes I do! But there’s more’n that. I just need to work, and I don’t have to worry about food. I wasn’t a married man, but now instead of having to cook, I get someone with [Advanced Cooking] making my meals. And my bed! Feels like the softest cotton when I lie down. That’s spoiling me; I don’t know that I’d return, even if my farm magically rebuilt itself. If it weren’t for all these upstuck city folk, I’d be happy as my pigs. I can’t wait to meet this [Emperor] everyone’s telling me about.”
The [Farmer] sighed as he and Durene finally got under the stump. Durene nodded.
“Lancrel folk, huh? What’re they like?”
Rickmeld eyed Durene and sucked his teeth thoughtfully. He might have been wondering if she were a spy for Prost—Durene was not—but he answered anyways with a [Farmer]’s bluntness.
“Upstuck. Like I said. Can’t handle rain, complain about sleeping in the big storage rooms and barns—as if we didn’t all do that! Worst is the rich folks or the ones who were rich. They keep demanding to get houses first and saying that there should be privileges. What’re they offering? Some of ‘em are decent, but the worst are the [Mayors].”
“[Mayors]?”
He nodded.
“[Mayors], [Aides], [Councilwomen]—you know the sort. We didn’t have a [Mayor] in our village, just a [Headwoman], and she was alright. But a lot of the places that fled the Goblins had people whose class was in leadership. People of importance.”
He spat. Durene, about to bend over, eyed the spit on the stump and sighed. Rickmeld looked apologetic.
“Rain’ll get that. Anyways, they’ve banded together. Formed a ‘governing body’, only, we’ve got that in Prost and Lady Rie. Prost is all we need, if you ask me. He’s a right sort. Good [Farmer], knows his stuff. And Lady Rie! Why’d you need anyone to tell a [Lady] how to manage things?”
Durene thought about Lady Rie and grunted.
“This other group wants to, though?”
“They have suggestions. And they have a lot of folk who respect them or who’re displeased. I say let them leave, but I suppose it ain’t possible. Lancrel’s lot sticks together and listens to this body. And there’s a lot of them…”
Durene nodded. She saw the issue. There were two thousand people in Riverfarm and more stragglers incoming by the day. If there were more people like Rickmeld and Riverfarm’s own, they could tell the other groups where to shove it. But the group from Lancrel outnumbered the villagers two-to-one, never mind that the rural folk had started all this.
“Well, Laken will sort it out when he arrives. Until then, Rie can handle it. And Prost. And Beniar.”
“What about you? I hear you’re His Majesty’s, er, consort. What’s a [Paladin] do all day?”
Durene shrugged, embarrassed.
“Help out. But I’m nothing special, Mister Rickmeld.”
So saying, she crouched, put her hand under the base of the stump, and heaved. The [Farmer] shielded his face as the roots of the tree ripped up out of the dirt in a shower. He gaped as Durene lifted the stump and roots up with one hand and wiped some dirt from her face with a grimace.
“I…see. Nothing special?”
His voice was faint. Durene shrugged.
“I’m a [Farmer]. The [Paladin] bit I’m working on, but I don’t quite know what to do. Hey, should I dump this on the wagon?”
She waved the stump at the other farmers as Frostwing flapped her wings and issued a complaint over the dirt covering her brilliant plumage. That was the morning. After a wet opening, the rain poured so hard the [Farmers] decided to take a break. Durene trooped into the village with them for a hot, warming meal inside one of the buildings the [Cooks] used to make and serve food. The [Farmers] went back out when the storm began to die down to a drizzle, and Durene decided she’d pulled up most of the big stumps. So she went to find the [Builders].
One team was being led by Beycalt, the [Forewoman] whom Durene had met the other day. She was only too glad to have Durene help unload the heavy, wet wagons. It gave Beycalt a chance to address some of the grumbling [Builders] in her crew.
“Working in the rain? Building in it? We should all be indoors!”
One man was simply unable to handle the light rain. He was protesting to Beycalt, and the woman was having none of it. She pointed as Durene trooped past her with some fresh-cut boards.
“It’s just rain. It doesn’t affect houses. And we can put a temporary shelter up when we start adding floorboards. I don’t know how you did it in Lancrel, but you can raise a building in storm or sun, Mister Felp. Stop complaining and help unload those wagons. We can throw up this house in the hour with Durene’s help if you’d all stop whining and do half of her work.”
She pointed, and Durene paused on her way back to the wagon. The man, Mister Felp, stared up at her. He hesitated, and his face paled.
“Uh—uh, the Troll? She’s going to help with everything?”
Beycalt frowned. Durene just smiled and held out a hand.
“Half-Troll, sir. [Paladin]. I’m here to help defend Riverfarm in case it’s attacked.”
Felp stared at her, and Durene had the sinking feeling he was surprised she could speak. His handshake was timid and limp and quick—Durene already didn’t like him or most of the other Lancrel people who were working in Beycalt’s group. They were all unused to the rain and quicker to complain than the rural folk.
Still, some of them worked with a will, and as Durene helped them set up the frame, she got a chance to talk. A woman nodded at her, spitting nails into her gloved hand one by one and driving each one into the wood with a practiced swing. It was a neat Skill.
“Don’t mind Felp, Miss, uh, Durene. He’s just not used to the wet. I’d be concerned if we were leaving this wood out, but we can raise a house in hours. Amazingly quick. Not to say it isn’t hard…”
“Something wrong with Riverfarm, Miss [Builder]?”
Durene looked at the woman as she lifted the frame up, one-handed. The woman hesitated.
“It’s just hard moving from a city to here. We’re grateful, of course. Those damn Goblins that attacked the city, and there were few places to turn—”
“If they could’ve gotten our city back, I’d have been happier.”
One of the men working on Durene’s left groused, and then looked away when she stared at him. The female [Builder] snorted and nearly ate one of her nails.
“Return to that place? It’s more ruin than not. I’m just saying that—look, it’s not simple. I, er, listened to your [Steward] at lunch. That man Prost. He was saying…”
She trailed off. The other Lancrel [Builders] looked up and around warily. After a moment, the female [Builder] moved over and whispered to Durene while Beycalt was busy helping unload roof tiles.
“Elmmet. He’s a good [Councilman]. You didn’t really catch him stealing…people are saying there might have been a mix-up. The [Thief] could change faces. What if he set up Master Elmmet?”
“I saw him change his face. It wasn’t anyone else. Frostwing found him too—he was looking like a woman right until she started attacking him. It’s him. Beniar caught him, and no one got a chance to slip away.”
Durene frowned as she informed the group. The Lancrel folk looked at each other, frowning hard. One of the men shook his head and tried to raise his voice, but they were all talking over each other.
“If that’s so, he’s been stealing all along. Hey, we did have a bad [Thief] problem in Lancrel. If it was Elmmet all this time…”
“Don’t say that. Dead gods! How’d our Watch Captain not deal with him?”
“Maybe—”
“Nothing’s proven yet. We’ll see tomorrow. It’ll all be settled under truth spell, right?”
At this, uneasily, the Lancrel folk nodded. Durene watched the silent group as they got back to work and felt a twinge of her own uneasiness. She helped for another hour and left when the framework and everything heavy had been set up.
For the rest of the day, Durene just carried things. She was faster than the wagons that were getting stuck in the muddy streets, and she could lift a lot with just her two hands. A paved street was one of the things everyone she met agreed that Riverfarm needed next. It was just that laying paving stones was an arduous task, and there were more important things to do first, like making sure that Riverfarm wouldn’t starve.
“Even so, we could subdivide. Set, er, forty men on the task, and I guarantee they’ll make good progress each day. All we need is a few experienced [Builders], a [Digger] or two perhaps—it’d be an efficient use of time, wouldn’t it?”
A man wearing a fine cotton coat was taking a break with some other city folk under the eaves of a roof as Durene trotted past with a huge tub of water for the [Cooks]. Durene slowed down to listen as the man went on.
“It’s not hard. Why not spare some men? The answer is that Mister Prost and Lady Rie don’t think it’s necessary. But why not? They’re always rushing about so why not appoint a supervisor to deal with the roads? Come to that, why not organize the village with more officials? There’s no hierarchy here, just those two.”
“There’s more than that. They have [Foremen] and people in charge of each area.”
One of the women wiped some rain from her cloak. The man with the nice coat paused.
“Ye-es… but I’m talking people with authority. People used to managing—there are a few, but they’re all from the villages. What about us?”
“They were here first, Rodivek. We’re newcomers.”
“But we have the classes they don’t. What’s a [Headman] know of managing a few thousand people? I was a [Mayor] of my town. And Beatica was a [Councilwoman] for over two decades! Don’t you think it’s slightly unfair that so many of us have no say in how this place we’re building is developed?”
Durene watched as the crowd shifted. Some people didn’t seemed convinced by Rodivek’s little speech, but more than half were nodding uncertainly. She walked away quickly.
Rodivek and Beatica. Those were two names she’d heard more than once on the tongues of people who identified as city folk. She didn’t like the man. As for the woman—Durene met her that night as she took her dinner in one of the mess halls.
—–
“Frostwing, shush!”
Durene was tending to the bird as people ate their dinners or collected them for eating elsewhere at the queues in the cookhouses. Her bird had been much better behaved after a few days around Durene, but Frostwing was still somewhat feral. And when she was hungry, the bird was hard to control. She kept trying to peck at other people who hurried past, guarding their food. Durene eventually had to grip the bird against her chest and, ignoring Frostwing’s furious pecking, collect some meat and her dinner.
“Screech and you don’t get any meat, understand? Just sit here and be quiet.”
The half-Troll girl knew that Frostwing could understand her. After a glare, the bird meekly hopped onto Durene’s arm and began to gobble food. Durene sighed and tore into the hot, toasted bun filled with bits of fruit and some goat’s cheese. To her delight, there were bits of meat in her meal as well! It tasted like…game. Rabbit maybe, or some other small animal. It was hot, filling, and Durene realized her portion wasn’t nearly enough. With the bowl of onion soup, it might be for most folks, but Durene’s stomach was still growling.
“I need two more portions.”
A bit ashamed, Durene went back to the [Cook]. The man opened his mouth to protest, looked Durene up and down, and silently gave her two more sandwiches and filled her bowl. The half-Troll girl blushed at the looks from some of the other people around her, but was too hungry to complain. She was sitting at one of the tables in the building, letting Frostwing peck at one sandwich, when she heard a woman’s voice.
“I simply cannot understand why you won’t accept our modest proposals, Lady Rie. Nobility is one thing, but I would like to remind you that we are speaking for all of Lancrel. A city has a voice, you know.”
Durene looked up. She spotted Lady Rie immediately. The woman had for once decided not to wear a completely formal dress, but her clothing was still very elegant. A [Lady]’s riding dress perhaps, although white and yellow, as if that wouldn’t smudge instantly. She’d kept herself clean, though, and dry. She was also frowning, her colored yellow lips pursed as she faced a small group of women…Durene frowned as she spotted the woman in front.
Beatica was a woman in her early forties, but she certainly didn’t lack when it came to beauty herself. Her hair was styled, her clothes practical, but more expensive than anything anyone in Riverfarm would own. She had no jewelry save for a large and clearly expensive ring on one finger—oh, and she practically radiated confidence. Durene looked at Beatica, and when the woman smiled, Durene felt like standing up and following her.
At least, a part of her did. It was instantly quashed by another part of Durene, which stared at the woman and felt an uneasy sense of familiarity. Her presence, the way the people around her hung on her every word—it all reminded Durene of one person.
Laken. Only, if he were a beacon of inspiration, Beatica was a torch. It was still effective, and Durene felt her attention immediately going to the woman, fixing on her argument with Rie. Moreover, most of the people in the room turned to listen as well. Beatica flashed them all a smile, then focused on Rie.
“We’re proposing to help Riverfarm. We have come here and worked these last weeks, haven’t we? Don’t we deserve a chance to use our classes to their fullest extent? Give us a chance! I am a former [Councilwoman]—there are [Mayors] such as Rodivek from Hewlat—we can take over some of the tasks that have clearly left you and Mister Prost running ragged. Let us manage a few small groups. We are familiar with our citizens—we can take care of pressing issues, like paving the ground.”
She gestured outside to the muddy streets. Lady Rie did something like a smile with her face, but her voice was somewhat icy as she replied.
“While I understand your enthusiasm, Miss Beatica—”
“Councilwoman, please, Lady Rie. I didn’t give up my class when I left my city. And I consider myself in charge of my people, even though we have lost our home.”
The woman interrupted Rie smoothly, gesturing to the crowd behind her. But that wasn’t what made Durene sit up in amazement. The half-Troll girl saw Rie’s mouth open and close while she spoke, but no words had come out. Beatica had used a Skill! Lady Rie made a sound and then glared at Beatica.
“I would appreciate you not using your Skills on me, Miss Beatica. And while I appreciate your…zeal in taking care of your people, I remind you that you came here. This is Emperor Laken’s domain. Not Lancrel’s. He may appoint leaders among Lancrel’s population when he returns. Until then, I believe Riverfarm is adequately handled between Prost and I and the people we have chosen.”
A murmur of agreement rose from some of the rural crowd in the room. Beatica pursed her lips. She clearly didn’t like Rie’s response, so she turned and appealed to the people from Lancrel and the towns.
“You say that, Lady Rie, but you’ve been saying that for nearly two months now! This talent is going to waste lying unused! Don’t we have [Tailors] without work, [Secretaries] whose Skills could be used setting up businesses—”
