Chapter 72

That night, I dreamed of comets with fiery tails in hundreds of colours raining down all around me. I couldn’t remember what happened when they crashed into the ground in my dream; which I guessed was my mind's way of glossing over the fact that I had no idea what a Dungeon looked like.

As weird as the dream was, it was still better than how my morning was going so far. Halfway through my aethersensing lesson, the thunder of hooves coming down the road outside interrupted us. Gramps had been the first one up, with Etta and I hot on his heels, heading to the door to find — a pack? A squad? I didn’t know the word for it, but about twenty armed and armoured guards on horseback. Two amongst them had carried banners depicting a golden-threaded storm eagle holding a bolt of lightning on a background of pale blue.

It seemed House Landrin had arrived. Not only had the Meravian Ducal House sent their own contingent to contest control of the silver mine — they had sent twice the number of warriors as House Firthholm.

That was how I found myself lying down on my stomach on the wooden floor of the second story landing, eavesdropping on the meeting between the two houses. The outpost was as close to neutral ground as we had in our little community and Gramps had cleared the place out for the two Houses to discuss what they would do about the silver mine. As per usual, my curiosity just had to be satisfied. So far, no one had bothered to say anything. Either they hadn’t noticed me, or more likely — they were willing to ignore a nosey five-year-old.

Lady Yalindra’s plain brown hair was pulled back tightly and wrapped into a bun which made her countenance even more severe than it usually was. She was dressed for battle, her arms encased in metal with a breastplate that was barely hidden by a tabard bearing the black tree of House Firthholm on a white background. At her waist hung a thin blade in a decorated scabbard.

Across from her sat the representative of House Landrin, Ser Joss Tailor. I’d managed to ask Mum what the title meant before finding my perch. The ‘Ser’ meant he was a Knight in service to House Landrin. Mum had commented that if he had been sent up to our little home he was likely unlanded. Ser Joss was a somewhat short man — similar in height to Lady Yalindra. But where Lady Yalindra walked with a confidence that told anyone watching in no uncertain terms that she was better than them, Ser Joss moved with a deadly grace. The sword at his hip looked almost utilitarian in comparison to Lady Yalindra’s weapon — and I had spied the wear on the grip. New leather wrapped over old on the hilt spoke of a man who was more than accustomed to violence.

Despite all that, Ser Joss seemed nothing but cordial in his own set of steel armour painted with a few light blue highlights and golden storm eagles on his pauldrons proclaiming his allegiance.

A few soldiers from each of their forces stood at the edges of the room on opposite sides. The rest were milling around outside and, depending on how this meeting went, I suspected that they could turn to violence. My fears were clearly shared by the Kellins and the Horndale Mining Co. as when we had gone inside, they were all staying well away from the fighting men and women of the two noble Houses.

The kitchen door squeaked open and Mum entered the room carrying a tray with two wooden cups and metal tea pot. She hadn’t changed since this morning, so she was still wearing her dark blue dress with a black fur scarf to ward off the morning chill.

I watched as she placed the cups down on the table and then set the tea aside, not serving the two nobles.

“Would you like any drinks for your soldiers?” she asked.

“Some ale for mine,” Lady Yalindra stated coolly. “Though water it down a little. They might have a long day ahead of them.”

Ser Joss shook his head slightly. “Nothing for my soldiers. They carry their own water.”

Mum nodded, heading for the bar as Lady Yalindra sneered at Ser Joss.

“How boring their lives must be following you around. Have you no sense of pleasure, Joss?”

Even I could read the insult in how Lady Yalindra did not include his title. Despite that, the only sign that Ser Joss took umbrage was a momentary tightening around his eyes. Then he relaxed again, gauntleted hand resting on the table and ignoring the tea.

“That comes after a victory, Lady Yalindra. Though perhaps they will have something to celebrate this evening.”

Yalindra snorted. “Go home Joss, and tell your Lord that you came and found that House Firthholm had already staked their rightful claim on these lands.”

“Funny you should mention that. My Lord showed me the maps drawn up by the Kingdom of Meravia, and it seems that this entire pass, almost to the foothills, belongs to the Duchy of Landrin which as you know is rightfully bestowed upon House Landrin. Based on these maps, I can do little but surmise that you have invaded my Lord’s lands and laid claim to that which is his.”

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“We both know those maps predate the current agreement between Ajinar and Meravia about the distribution of the Horndale Mountains,” Yalindra countered.

I searched her body language for a sign of how she was feeling but came up with nothing. No surprise that a noble was schooled in the art of concealing their emotions. Ser Joss was just as impressive in this regard, though with less reason — because, unless I missed my guess, he had to be commonborn with a surname like ‘Tailor.’

“Based on those current agreements, Meravia allows House Fenrith to toll the southern pass in return for a reduced tax on Meravian ships using the northern shipping route to Ajinport. They make no mention of Hornsdale's northern pass as — until recently — the traffic willing to risk it was not worth the effort of taxing it. While that may still be true, the silver mine changes things and my Lord will not be left out of such a resource on his lands.”

Lady Yalindra flexed her metal encased fingers, the armour clearly well made enough to be almost silent as it shifted to accommodate the movement. “What do you want, Joss?”

As Ser Joss was about to answer, there was a squeak of surprise from my mother. My eyes flicked to where she was standing near one of the soldiers of House Firthholm, watered down ale spilled on the hem of her dress and one of the soldier's hands still swinging back to his side from where he had reached out to touch her.

From the look on her face, I could tell he had been inappropriate. A bubbling, black rage started to fill my stomach. Gramps exited his office to see what was going on and I waited to see what happened.

My rage went from a bubbling pit to a heaving ocean as Lady Yalindra waved Gramps off.

“Just a misunderstanding. You were about to tell me what you wanted, Joss.”

No one else seemed ready to move on so quickly. Mum was moving away from the soldier, shame written on her face. Gramps looked ready to set someone on fire — no points for guessing who, though he might have included Lady Yalindra in the mix. Even Ser Joss was frowning at the soldier in question, and I wondered what the rules were around a Knight challenging a foreign soldier to single combat. In my heart, I hoped he would, as I was ready to see the soldier's head roll for doing something to Mum.

With an effort of will, Ser Joss turned back to Lady Yalindra while Mum hurried quickly out of the room. Gramps followed a moment later but not before sparing a little more of his ire for both the soldier and Lady Yalindra.

“Seems the rumours are true, Lady Yalindra. You do make enemies wherever you go. I wonder if that’s why your cousin sent you up here. Was he perhaps trying to limit the damage you might do at court in Dinalby?”

Lady Yalindra sneered once more. “Careful of your words. I’m not as nice as I seem and far less kind than the rumours make me out to be.”

I stifled a snort. It sounded to me like she was neither viewed as nice nor kind, which I suppose made sense in the world of noble doublespeak. Mentally, I took note for my future at Songleaf Academy.

“If you take issue with my words, then you know what to do. I would happily meet you on the dueling grounds if you so desire. Just say the word.”

Reading into it, I was guessing that Joss lacked the standing to challenge her directly. Perhaps there was a gap between a Knight and lesser Nobility? But the same issue did not exist in the other direction.

Once more, I hoped she would agree to the challenge. She didn’t.

“Tell me what you want already, Joss,” she said venomously.

“It’s quite simple really. My Lord is willing to acknowledge that Count Firthholm may have some claim to the region and the silver mine. To that end, my Lord is willing to allow House Firthholm control of the town on three conditions.”

Lady Yalindra waved her hand for Ser Joss to continue.

“Firstly, the proceeds from the tax on the silver mine will be split evenly between House Firthholm and House Landrin. Secondly, if House Firthholm decides to place tolls on the northern Horndale pass, that they will not exceed twenty percent less than the current tolls exacted by House Fenrith on the southern pass. Finally, House Firthholm will commit to regular patrols of the northern Horndale pass to improve the safety of those using it.”

Merchants. He means merchants, I thought.

“And if I agree to these terms?” Lady Yalindra asked.

“Then I will remain for a month, or until I believe that you are meeting the terms of our agreement to my Lord's satisfaction. After which the pass will be left in your hands with regular visits from one of House Landrin’s tax collectors to review your accounts and collect the agreed upon silver. The security and storage of it prior to collection will of course fall to you, though I have no doubt you would need to do the same for your own tax collections so that shouldn’t be too much of an imposition.”

Lady Yalindra may have been sitting still, but she was finally revealing some emotion beneath her cool facade, staring daggers at Ser Joss. I couldn’t tell what she was waiting for as the silence stretched. Maybe she was doing the mental math on how much silver would end up in her own pocket after she paid House Landrin’s cut and her dues to her cousin, Count Firthholm. Whatever she was doing, she finally came to a decision almost a minute later.

“Have the agreement written up and I will put my seal to it.”

“No need to check with Count Firthholm if the terms are agreeable?” Ser Joss asked. There was no amusement in his tone, and I suspected he might even be a little surprised.

“My Count expected that certain considerations would need to be put in place. If he finds these less than acceptable, I am sure he will communicate with your Lord directly. Have the papers sent to my residence and we will put wax and aether to our words,” she said, pushing her chair back and heading for the door.

I tried not to snort at calling her wooden fort a residence.

Her soldiers followed, while the simple wooden cups and metal tea pot remained on the table — untouched.

I watched the lesser noble and her guards leave with only one thought on my mind — somehow, some way, they needed to be forced to leave our little community. The question on my mind was, how?