01 - The Price of Talent (2 page)

              Also, being near a river is valuable for farming as it makes field irrigation a lot easier. The farther from water you get, the fewer crops you can plant. Eventually, all you have is grazing land for livestock. Our farm was a middle distance, so we still had irrigation, but only for half of the fields. So we both grew crops and raised livestock.

              The town is near the water about an hour or so wagon’s ride south of the family farm. The road to town was a well beaten dirt track that all the farmers, tinkers, peddlers and assorted wanderers took. The roads then were relatively safe as the local church ran regular patrols. While the seat of the regional government and priests for our region were in Caer Sud, about half a week’s ride south of Forsburg, the local church made sure to coordinate patrols with it. This close to the forest and mountains the wild areas between farms were occasionally used by raiders, thieves and other unsavory types to raid local farms and steal church taxes. Even the woodsmen did not travel that deeply into the woods as a result. However, because these dangers were well known, the local and regional authorities took care to keep the road safe for travelers.

              Thanks to the church patrols, I did not have that much to worry about. Still, my father was always prepared. Hidden under the seat was a large cudgel. It was about three and half feet of treated ironwood. I had seen it split rocks. It was there to dissuade a petty thief from robbing our wagon. Not that we ever had that problem, but better to be well armed and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

              As I approached the town in the wagon, the sun indicated the afternoon was already about half over. My father was right, I didn’t have enough time to linger over root beer, sarsaparilla or spirits. If I didn’t know better, I would say he had it all planned out.

              Keeping to the main street, I headed into town and to the general goods store. I stopped the wagon outside, tied it to a hitching post, and headed in.

              The general goods store at that time was in a wooden building, like most of the town and surrounding farmhouses. It had an attic area for dry good storage and a cold cellar for cured meats and perishables. Inside were rows and rows of various home and farm supplies.

              When I walked in, Old Bill was talking to the John the Cooper in hushed voices.

“Who’s staying at the inn?” Bill asked.

“I told you, the most recent church patrol. Or at least so they claim. But they had somebody with them, he wore mail, not just the usual patrol brigandine, and he had a strange medallion around his neck,” said John.

“Did the runes on the medallion sparkle at all?”

“Yeah, and what was weird was that it sparkled regardless of the light in the inn.”

“Oh shit, John. That’s not a patrolman, that’s an inquisitor.”

“What’s an inquisitor?” I asked, startling both of them.

“Tyr, what are you doing here?” Said Bill.

“Oh, just dropping by for supplies. Dad gave me a list.” I said, rummaging through my pockets looking for the list.

“Oh, and how is Mr. Janus doing” said John.

“Right now? Cleaning up all the spilled grain from one of your barrels falling apart.”

“What! My barrels never fail! Well, at least, they never fail for anyone else. What the hell are you using my barrels for?” He asked.

This was not the first time one of his barrels had burst apart on us. He claimed it never happened to anyone else, but my dad still suspected poor construction was the cause.

“Just feed grain, John, just feed grain,” I said.

“Well, I will see about sending you another one on my next delivery. I would love a look at the barrel that failed too. Professional pride is at stake…”

“Yeah, sure. I’m certain my dad would love to speak to you about it too,” I said with a wry smile.

“Now, what were you guys saying about an inquisitor? What the hell… heck, I mean… is that?”

“That, my boy, is a rare sight around these parts,” said Bill. “And you are right to guard your tongue around them. They are in charge of witch hunting and rooting out heresy. They’re given special dispensation by the church to hunt down witches and heretics by whatever means they feel is necessary. Don’t even have to take the people they capture in front of the lord’s justice at the church, they can just summarily execute people.”

“Wait, what? I thought killing was one of the divine prohibitions.”

“For US yes, not for them. The high priest apparently lets his shepherds cull the flock as they see fit. Or, the inquisition is allowed to anyway.”

“Hush, Bill” said John, “You never know if they are in earshot. It’s worth more than either of us to avoid the attention of the inquisition.”

“You’re absolutely right John,” said Bill. “Why don’t we stop clucking like hens and see about getting the boy his supplies before the sun starts setting.”

              It took about an hour to unload the cart with my deliveries and then reload all the new supplies my parents had ordered into the wagon. Old Gerty was less than pleased with the quantities of goods she was going to have to lug home. Still, I stayed out of her reach and managed to get by without being bit or stepped on; something that I was rather pleased about.

“Well, that’s the last of it” said Bill. “There’s some time before the sun goes down, you want to split some sarsaparilla?”

“How about something a little stronger?...” I asked with an innocent smile… Or what I thought was an innocent smile. Apparent sincerity did not come easily to me.

“How about sarsaparilla?” Said Bill with one eyebrow raised. “Your Ma and Pa would be less than thrilled with you coming home smelling of booze.”

“OK, fine.” I said, cutting my losses. After all, Bill was right, I would not live down coming home drunk.

“You staying too, John?” asked Bill.

“No, still got some work to do down at the shop. I have orders to fill and the wife will be less than thrilled if I spend all day dallying here.”

“Well then, more for us,” said Bill.

“Just make sure you send along all those staves and metal bands for my shop tomorrow.”

And with that, John wandered back towards his shop with a bag of supplies thrown over his shoulder.

“So, about that sarsaparilla” I said.

              Bill went and grabbed a couple of bottles and we took seats outside the shop and enjoyed the last rays of the setting sun.

“How do you know so much about inquisitors?” I asked.

“Well son, they used to make the rounds of all the villages and major cities, rounding up heretics, witches and mages and the like. But in the past few years, their patrols have lessened. Outlying towns like ours don’t get much attention anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t rightly know honestly. Could be they’re focusing on other things. Hard to tell with church business. Ours is not to question why in these matters. Leave such concerns to the church.”

“OK, I understand why the church would want to root out heretics and mages and all that. But why go looking for people who aren’t getting up to any trouble? Why do we have to worry about them?”

“Not getting up to any trouble?”

“Yeah, I mean if these witches and mages, or whatever you call them, if they were up to no good, wouldn’t the local sheriffs have arrested them by now? Wouldn’t it be obvious? Why hassle the rest of us who’re just living our lives?”

“Son, when magic is involved, how would ordinary people like us know when someone is up to no good?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you were a mage, a heretic in the eyes of the church, the vilest of scofflaws, would you go around being obvious with your demonic arts?”

“Well, no, seems like that would be a good way to get caught.”

“Exactly. Instead, heretics act subtly. Maybe a farmer says something mean to him or her and that farmer later loses his crop to a blight. Or maybe a shepherd sells him or her a half weight short count of lamb chops and later that shepherd loses a couple of sheep to wolves. Would you be able to tell if magic had anything to do with it? They act subtly to avoid detection, which is why special patrols are needed.”

“Makes sense I guess.”

“And that is also why the inquisitors are given special dispensations to root out people whose powers haven’t fully manifested yet. Because when their powers do develop, they have the potential to cause great damage to society. So they can be arrested, or even killed, before they harm people.”

“If they are so subtle, how do the inquisitors know how to find them?”

“A good question. Some think the inquisitors are granted powers by god to find them. Others that the medallions they wear are designed to detect magic. But I don’t think anyone outside the highest levels of the church knows for sure. After all, that’s not a secret they will likely want getting out eh?”

“You’re probably right. If you know how they catch you, then you know how to avoid it.”

“Exactly son, now you’re using your noodle.”

              It was then that I realized that the sun was starting to touch the horizon. I had over stayed and if I didn’t hurry I would be late for dinner. And late for 3 meals in one day would likely set my mom off and earn me a decade of extra chores.

“Thanks for the sarsaparilla Bill, but I really have to get going. If I don’t leave now, I will be late for dinner and mom would have my hide.”

“Yeah, you’re right son. Come to think of it, my old missus is probably looking for me to close up shop and head home too. Have a safe trip home.”

And with that I jumped into the driver’s seat of the wagon and whipped old Gerty into a gallop! Well, I got her walking towards home anyway. That was as close to a dramatic exit as Gerty was capable of.

The trip home was fairly uneventful. The sun was setting and lighting the sky in an orange haze as it fell behind the distant Western mountains. The Eastern grasslands were fairly quiet with just the sound of insects disturbing the peace. As I approached my house with old Gerty, I noticed that my dad was not outside doing the evening chores before dinner, which wasn’t like him. There are things that need doing around the farm which shouldn’t be ignored. That he wasn’t out working struck me as quite odd.

Even so, I knew what needed doing. I drove Gerty and the wagon into the barn, hitched her to one of the posts and went to the house to see if I could round up any help to unload the wagon.

On getting to the house, I was surprised to see that most of the lamps remained unlit. Only the living room lights were shining. Our living room was like a lot of farm houses’ living rooms, it existed for entertaining guests and was rarely used in the daily hubbub. Most of the actual living in the house went on in the kitchen, dining room and bed rooms.

Still, I came in through the side entrance, took off my boots in the mud room, and put on my indoor shoes. Then I walked through the kitchen and the dining room looking for my parents. Oddly enough they were not there. It was not till I walked into the living room that I saw them sitting on the couch like they were entertaining guests.

Upon entering the living room I noticed that both of my parents looked troubled.

“I put Gerty and the wagon in the barn, I was wondering if I could get any help unloading it” I said in an attempt to break the weird silence in the room.

              It was then that two other people entered the room from side doors. They were both of medium build, wearing brigandine with swords belted to their wastes. More importantly, they were both holding hand crossbows. I couldn’t help but notice that these were cocked and loaded, as the light glinted ominously off the quarrels’ steel tips.