Holtsclaw, page 12
part #3 of The Master Mage Chronicles Series
Harve was as startled as the thieves. The leader was, again, the first to speak. “What the… “. He reflexively reached for his long-blade which, of course, was missing. The other men had reached for theirs as well, to no avail.
“Yes, I have relieved you of your blades. Since all of you are ceasing this evil business of plunder, there seemed to be little reason to leave them with you. I give you the same choice I have given others. Depart with an oath to cease in theft, or be banished to a very distant place. Your choice.”
Marcus used mind-touch. The leader and two of the men standing closest to him were murderers. They and one other were abusers of women, as well. “However, you four.” he pointed to the guilty men, “have taken lives and the virtue of women. In the king’s name, your lives are forfeit.” Marcus reached out and tore their life-forces away, making no effort to do it with respect or kindness The four men wilted as if their bones had been removed.
“For the rest of you…” Two men broke ranks and began to run away; Marcus invoked tiemp and carried them back, tossing them at the feet of the others. “As I was saying, for the rest of you there is a choice. To my left,” he pointed with his bo “all those who are willing to make a oath to leave this life and not return to it, ever. To my right, those who refuse. You will be banished to a distant land. Choose.”
There was a murmur of discussion. They looked at their fallen comrades. To a man, they moved to Marcus’ left.
“You have made a wise choice. Now, repeat after me: ‘I-hereby-swear- to-never-thieve-again’.” The men complied with trembling voices. “Excellent. Should I pass this way, or should my agents pass this way, and find any of you in violation of this oath? I shall do to you what I have just done to these. Now, stand back three paces.”
The men scrambled to comply. Invoking tier Marcus opened a deep pit and rolled in the four corpses, closing up the ground when finished. There was hardly a trace of their burial. There was a smell of offal as several of the men voided their bowels. “Now, be on your way. And return not to your camp. What remains there is forfeit to me.”
In a moment, the road was clear and Marcus stood alone with Harve. “Their camp is a league ahead, a half-league to the right. Take what you want, then have villagers return to remove the rest. The blades are yours to keep or sell. The coin they carried is now mine.” He returned the summoning stone. “Yes, I have dealt harshly with these. But I want word to spread to those you will not encounter. Banditry has come to an end on these highways. Do you have any questions?”
Harve shook his head. Even if he had any, he was much too frightened to ask,
----- o0o -----
Marcus reached a division of roads. He was unsure which to take, east or west. There was a small village at the intersection with an inn, stable and market. It was sixth-day evening and the locals had gathered for some kind of celebration. Although Marcus had been on the mainland for well over a turn, he had paid little attention to such events in his rush last turn to reach Holtsclaw. He stabled the animals and mingled with the crowds. The inn had but one vacant room, its most expensive. Marcus had no hesitation in taking it for the night. He had plenty of coin, thanks to the thieving bands he had recently dispersed.
The next morning, a seventh-day, he took a leisurely first-meal and made his way to the local parish chapel. An older priest-mage sat alone, waiting and hoping for a visit by the generous faithful. Marcus immediately thought of the sixth virtue. Be generous to the poor and to those who serve the fata. He introduced himself and donated two silvers. By the look of surprise on the mage’s face, Marcus assumed a donation of such an amount was infrequent.
The mage was effusive in his thanks. “Bless you! Bless you, my son! If there is anything you need, anything at all, just ask.”
“Well, there are a couple of things. I am only passing through and would like to know more about the roads ahead. Tell me, which are safe, and which are not.”
“Well, I be a poor one to ask, as I travel but little. But the rumors are that the east route be more safe than the east. Goin’ west there are several bandit groups demanding a pinch to go safely. You know what a pinch is, right?”
“Yes. As in ‘a special tax to guarantee safe passage’. A tax they both collect and keep.”
“Yup, you got the truth of it. All of us here in the village would like to see it cleaned up. Travelers avoid us because of it. Which greatly reduces our incomes. We don’t have much to offer other than a bit of hospitality. Well, I suppose we have a bit of grain and such. But then again, buyers are reluctant to come here to buy. Anything else?”
“Perhaps. You know I am a mage, right?”
“Yes, you have the look. Didn’t want to pry, though. Your business is your own.”
“I have a bit of scholar-gift as a weak endowment. I am always looking for old manuscripts to study. The older the better. I ask at all the parishes I pass through if there are any for sale. I offer coin if the manuscripts are worth buying.”
The old mage was thoughtful. “You know, we do have some old boxes in a back room that have been resting untouched for many, many turns. If memory serves me correctly, there were some old manuscripts in one of them.” He thought for a moment more, running back the turns in his mind. “Yes, now I’m sure of it. Yes. There was a note saying ‘Do not destroy’, so we didn’t. Note didn’t say why not. It was written in a hand by someone long forgotten. Let’s go see what remains. What the mice haven’t eaten away.”
The small storage room was cluttered with broken furniture and worn blankets. And yes, mice had resided in the space for many turns. “We’ve needed to clear this place out for a long time. I’m sure it has been at least two-hand turns since we’ve even been back here. Give me some help with this old chair. Just throw it out in the hallway. I’ll have one of the maids break it up for burn-wood.”
Long moments of dusty effort later, the old mage gave a grunt of success. “Yep, still here just as I remembered.” He blew the dust off two boxes, each about two-hand by three-hands, one-hand tall. They were well made of an old, hard wood and seemed to be intact. They were tied shut with stout string. And as the old mage remembered, a tattered piece of parchment was on the top of the first. It proclaimed in large Rontal script: DO NOT DESTROY.
Marcus carefully carried them to the adjacent room while the mage stuffed the better pieces of debris back into the room. There was a sizable pile he left in the hallway. “He looked over at Marcus. “More burn-wood.”
The string, though old, continued to serve its purpose. Marcus pulled a short-blade and looked at the Mage. The mage nodded. “Go ahead, cut it. Let’s see if my memory is true.”
The interior of both boxes had remained dry. A handful of tobak leaves, or so their smell suggested, were scattered on the sides of the bound contents. “This smells like tobak. Any reason for it to be here?”
“Yes. They used to put it in everything, to keep the mice away. At least, so I was told. Seems to have worked for these boxes, anyway.”
Each box contained one tightly wrapped bundle, sufficiently large to leave little space for anything else. The covering was of some kind of skin, dried and brittle. He tugged on the twine and the skin fell away, revealing old documents. He severed the string and began reading the top page, which held nothing more than a brief note. Kult, my life’s work. May there someday arise another mage with a similar passion. I have tried to interest others to no avail.
It was signed Mage Oliver Castor with a date of nine-fist and two. This turn was a hand and two fist two and nine. “These documents were written three fists and seven turns ago. It is incredible they have survived so long! Credit a dry storage room, strong boxes, and a liberal use of tobak leaves!”
Marcus reverently tied the bundle back together. He replaced the cover and opened the second box. It, too, contained documents. “These are invaluable to me! Name your price.”
The old mage looked at him pensively. “They are useless to us. You have already been generous, with your two silvers. Suppose I just give them to you. Would you accept them as our gift?”
“No. I could not do that.” He reached into his purse and counted out ten silvers, the equivalent of two fist coppers. “Would this be a fair exchange for the manuscripts?”
The mage clutched his robes. “Such an amount! This alone would support us for two, maybe three turnings! Bless you my young mage. Bless you!”
“You are welcome. The real thanks to Mage Oliver Castor, long passed.”
Marcus carried the two boxes to the market and searched out a stall selling leathers and hides of various quality and size. “Do you have something sturdy? And water proof? Something that would cover these two boxes?”
“As one package or two?”
“One would be preferred.“
“Yuh have an idea what yuh be willin’ to pay? The best stuff would be sealskin. Probably cost yuh a full silver. I could give yuh somethin’ a lot cheaper. Maybe for five coppers. Wish I could do better. But it’s not been a good turn for hide. And there be little of it getting’ here with all the trouble on the highways.”
Marcus reached into his purse. There were many silvers remaining. “Let’s go with the best you have. These contain things I would like to be well protected. I hope you would be willing to help me wrap them up securely?”
“Ah course. Part of the purchase.”
It took a while to measure and cut the hide, fold it, and tie the boxes to Marcus’ satisfaction. He was confident the boxes would remain dry, no matter what the weather might be. He carried the boxes to the stable and placed them at the bottom of Wee’s pack.
In all the activity, Marcus had missed the mid-day meal. It was approaching last-meal. He returned to the inn, but the aroma of their food did not appeal to him. He returned to the market area. It was mostly vacant this late. He followed his nose to a booth vending a rich stew. He pointed to the nearly-empty pot barely simmering over a dying bed of coals. The serving lady gave him an assessing eye. “Yuh be muh last customer. Glad to end the day with an empty pot. Give yuh all that’s left for a copper.”
It was delicious. When he finished, he gave her a second copper. “Best stew I’ve ever had.”
“Thank ye, young man. But methinks what they say is true. Hunger make the best cook!”
----- o0o -----
Marcus waited until midnight approached. He went to the stable area, carefully fixed its details in his mind, and ported to Cardston. Moriah was waiting for him. Marcus was surprised it was possible to mentally squeal.
Moriah: Marcus! I’m so glad to see you! She rushed over to embrace him, then stopped. Sorry, almost forgot. How have you been doing? Dispatched any bandits this seven-day? You have been safe, right?
Marcus: Yes and yes. I’ve removed two groups and hope to eliminate several more this coming seven-day. How are you doing here? Especially with your father?
Her spirit immediately sobered. A growing problem. I’ve taken to avoiding him when possible. This mage, Gideon, though. I seem to encounter him more often than expected. I get the impression he is stalking me. I now go nowhere without my short-blades in clear sight.
Marcus: I told you how to avoid his mind-touch? When he is close, think of something specific, like a wall or tapestry. Something convenient.
Moriah: Yes, I remember what you told me. Besides, I can tell when he tries to influence me, thanks to my lesser endowment. Perhaps I will borrow back a pair of long blades from the armory, and confront him. I now believe even more strongly that he saw us blade-dancing. A couple of those blades in his face would surely give him pause.
Marcus: No doubt. Be careful. Worst case, we can always return early to Holtsclaw. How does your father handle the tuition?
Moriah: He gives me coin for each turn. Leaving early might not be a good option.
Marcus: I would pay, if it came to that. Let’s hope that it does not. He took several steps back. Time for me to go. This time, he gave her a loose hug and a gentle peck on the cheek. It was a kiss to remember. There was still a difference of gift between them.
----- o0o -----
First-meal at the inn was more appealing than the proffered last-meal he had declined the night before. Marcus confirmed that the west road was more perilous than the one to the east. He settled his bill at the stable, packed, and was on his way well before mid-morning. He had traveled less than a league when a worn man stepped from the roadside bushes and brandished a long-blade.
“Yuh be paying the tax fer safe passage.” He said it more as a fact than question.
Well, that didn’t take long. “And if I don’t? What then?”
“Then yuh be wishin’ yuh had, soon enough. Two coppers.”
“Regretfully, I am in need of every copper I carry. So, no tax today. Please stand aside.”
The man remained in position. “Ah, I don’t think yuh be understandin’. I not be askin’, but tellin’.”
Marcus dismounted and removed the bo from Wee’s pack. One swift blow on the shoulder sent the man sprawling to the ditch at the side of the road. “It is you having a problem with understanding. I said ‘I will not be paying the tax’. What part of ‘no’ did you not understand?”
The man stood and brushed himself off, favoring the shoulder Marcus had struck. He turned and gave a hand-signal to a horseman standing by his mount some two-hand paces farther down the road. The man leaped on the saddle and rode quickly away.
“Passing the word forward, I presume?”
“As ah said, yuh be regrettin’ not payin’ the tax. An’ maybe a bit more for dumpin’ me in the dirt the way yuh did.”
Marcus accessed mind-touch. The man was bad, but not truly evil. He invoked tiemp and removed the man’s long-blade, belt and purse. The blade was of poor construction and the purse nearly empty, holding only a few coppers. His name was Thomas.
“Listen carefully, Thomas. I am going to disband your bandit group. They will no longer operate as thieves on this highway. Or any other highway.” He tossed the now-empty purse at his feet but kept the blade. “Find other means of support. If I pass through and find you again collecting a pinch, I will deal very harshly with you. Very harshly indeed.” Marcus invoked fear into the man’s mind.
Thomas, without his blade, stood wide-eyed and frightened. Marcus passed him by. No additional words were spoken.
The next five leagues passed as quickly as Wee allowed. Truthfully, it was not quick at all, albeit at a steady pace. Mind-touch indicated a group of men approaching the road from a grove of trees to his left.
Rounding a small curve, he was confronted by seven well-armed men, including the man he had earlier seen ride forward. An archer stood behind them, holding a crossbow loaded and locked with a mean-looking bolt. Marcus held up an open hand in the universal sign of ‘hold’ and dismounted. He suspended time, as he had done so many times before, and proceeded to disarm the bandits and remove their coin. He was particularly pleased to now be in the possession of a crossbow. Though of poor workmanship, he had no doubt it would have reliably served its intended purpose.
Marcus was in no particular hurry to dismiss tiemp. He went through the purses, finding a bit more than expected. In total, there were nine silvers, two-hand four coppers, and some smaller part-coppers he did not bother to count. He added them to his purse and tied the crossbow and quiver of bolts to Wee’s pack. He returned to normal time and did a quick mind-touch. Sadly, two of the men had willfully taken the lives of other men.
There was the usual surprise and confusion. Marcus gave his now-practiced speech, directing the two murderers to one side and giving the other five the option of an oath of honesty or banishment. Without weapons, no one moved to attack. He turned to the two. You are murderers. In the name of the king, I condemn you to his justice. He pulled their life-force and buried them where they lay. To the others he asked “have you made your choice? Will it be the oath of honesty or instant banishment? The latter would be to a distant land. So distant it would be unlikely you ever return here to your homes.” As expected, they chose the former. He administered the oath and sent them on their way. He kept the horse the messenger had been riding, tying its bridle to the rear of Wee’s pack.
Two days later Marcus encountered a second band of thieves. This time there were six men in total. He repeated his actions. Fortunately, none of them was a murderer. They were disbanded with the usual oath of honesty. He was richer by three silvers, six coppers, six long-blades and seven short. Two days later he arrived at a larger village where he sold the horse and found a buyer for the blades. He kept the two best short-blades for his collection. Along the way he had been passed by two grateful peddlers. Word was spreading that the west road was once again safe for travel.
Over the next six seven-days, Marcus was summoned five more times, twice by Timimi and thrice by Harve. In the process he had enriched himself by three-hand seven silvers and many, many coppers. Nine murderers had felt the King’s justice fall upon them. This did not bring pride to Marcus, just the grim satisfaction of knowing that justice had prevailed. And that such men had been removed from among the living.
One encounter remained in his mind. It was on the coast road along a desolate stretch of brushy hills. The bandit group had been large, a total of a hand and seven men. By Tamimi’s account, these bandits had been particularly aggressive. Marcus had captured coin and blade and three of their number met immediate king’s justice. What made it unique was the elaborate encampment the men had established. It was clearly a long-standing operation, with local support. As explained by Tamimi, the bandits preyed more on caravans than individuals. Their pattern of operation was to seize cargo and pass it to a local merchant for resale.
Marcus had traveled on with Tamimi to the nearest village and searched out the accomplice merchant. He was a mean man without conscience, grown wealthy on the misery of others. Marcus had boldly confronted him in his place of business. He readily discovered that in addition to theft, he had ruthlessly eliminated several of his competitors. He immediately dispensed king’s justice. Using tiemp, he penetrated the merchant’s home and removed its wealth, which included seven gold crowns. There were many silvers and coppers These he left with the local priest-mage with instructions they be used for the relief of the poor and exploited. Villagers had been dispatched to the bandits’ extensive encampment. The recovered merchandise was sold for the benefit of the same. The merchant had been fond of old manuscripts. Marcus added his modest collection to his own.
