"Manhood is patience. Mastery is nine time patience"―Ursula K. Le Guin,A Wizard of Earthsea
Bredin went into the waystation with Herald Mani. The Herald pointed to the ceiling where several herbs hung from a string. He untied the end of the string to lower the herbs. He named them one by one. At Mani's direction, Bredin broke off bits of several of the herbs.
"I don't know how well you did in the field cookery lessons," Mani said "but eating will become a chore if you don't learn how to give your food some taste."
Mani chose a few basic supplies from the waystation stores and handed them to Bredin. Picking up a pot, he and Bredin went back to the firepit. "Too damned hot to cook inside."
Bredin got the fire going while Mani put water and lentils in a pot, beginning one of the recipes Bredin had learned. At Mani's direction, Bredin gradually added ingredients and some of the herbs the Herald had picked. Last, Mani shaved off some bouillon from a dried bar. He showed Bredin the amount before adding it to the pot. They left the pot to simmer.
Fetching a bowl and a pan, Mani showed Bredin how to make simple biscuits. While Bredin followed his instructions, Mani lectured.
"If your food gets boring, you may decide you don't want to eat. Making your food taste good is important. So is taking the time to eat. A lot of Heralds, particularly on their first few circuits, don't bother. That is why they return from their circuits whittled down to skin and bones.
"You are going to be working hard and need the energy. Just as you need to keep your fighting skills, you need to keep your body fit to fight. So, even if you are dead tired when you get back to the waystation, make sure you take the time to have a good meal."
"They didn't go into this much in the field classes." Bredin said.
"Because they are trying to cram so much into a few days and nights in the field. There are only so many things they can cover, so they just give you the basics." Mani said. "I really think they should have a recipe book in every waystation."
"How did you learn to cook?" Bredin asked.
"My mentor was Herald Tedric. He is a fabulous cook and insisted that I learn to do more. He is old now and runs the resupply station at Berrybay. If you are ever on one of the Sorrows Circuits, make sure you look him up." Mani said.
Soon, the meal was ready and they sat down to eat. The simple stew sang in Bredin's mouth. He was amazed at how much better the food was than his own efforts on his way here.
Mani saw his expression and gave Bredin an 'I told you so' look.
They finished their meal and cleaned up.
Mani cleared his throat. "On my last break, you were teaching unarmed combat in the salle. I didn't get a chance to practice with you. Would you mind giving me some pointers?"
The request startled Bredin. Recovering himself, he said "Of course, Senior."
Not wanting to soil their whites, the two stripped to their singlets. The two sparred lightly for half a candlemark, allowing Bredin to get a measure of Mani's skills. Like all Heralds, Mani had some hand-to-hand training. Dethor, the weaponsmaster at the time, had given the trainees what he knew, but Dethor was not as knowledgeable as Bredin or Alberich.
Bredin helped Mani with a few exercises and they practiced together for another half-candlemark until the sun went down. In the twilight, they went to the river nearby and used the soaproot planted at the bank to clean themselves in the cool water.
Returning to the camp, they played a couple of games of chess, each winning one, before going to bed. The sounds of Caiseal and Lacaral enjoying each other's company drifted through the open window. "Damn." Mani said with a chuckle. "Why couldn't I have at least gotten a female intern?"
###
The next morning, they returned to the village. Bredin sat quietly at Mani's side while the Senior Herald questioned the disputants and made his judgments. Mani's frequently blunt remarks continued to surprise Bredin.
Bredin shook his head, puzzled by Mani's harsh words.
::Look at the other villagers.:: Lacaral said.
Alerted by Lacaral, Bredin watched the villagers as Mani delivered his judgments. The villagers and farmers would nod as Mani spoke. Their expressions showed they strongly approved.
::Watch carefully.:: Lacaral went on. ::Who is he giving his unvarnished opinions? When is he sympathetic?::
Bredin listened closely. Those who Mani scorned were those who had been fools and would not admit their own folly. If they had used good sense, the dispute would never have come before the Herald. Mani's comments could fall equally on those his judgment favored as the losing side if neither had shown a willingness to compromise or bend.
Equally, Mani could be understanding when the one at fault was contrite.
"You have admitted you were a fool, Nick Klys. You spooked Pal Morgan's horses and lamed one of them for a moon. Goodman Morgan has forgiven you, but you should still make it up to him. I think it would be fair if you paid for the next shoeing." The young man – hardly Bredin's age – blushed and agreed.
"Also, I think it would be fair if you groomed the horses for a moon. They suffered, too."
Nick blushed again. "Yessir. I like horses."
Mani glanced at Goodman Morgan, who nodded. "So be it." He said.
When the villagers smiled at the decision, Bredin saw that Lacaral was right: Mani's blunt talk was what they wanted to hear.
::Why don't the villagers just tell them instead of waiting for a Herald?:: Bredin asked Lacaral.
::Think, Chosen. Think of the quarrels in Bransat.:: Lacaral said.
Bredin recalled some of the long-standing disputes in his home village. There was Hannah Reede's quarrel with Tam Warfield, the blacksmith. Hannah and her husband Linus had bought a house next to Tam Warfield's shop. Hannah had immediately begun complaining about the smoke from Tam's forge. Her complaints had been incessant and she made several petitions to the Reeve and the Magistrate to force Tam to move his business. In vain, the Reeve, the Magistrate and her neighbors had all pointed out that Tam had been there first. No one could persuade her to cease pestering the blacksmith.
Eventually, Hannah had taken the matter to Count Wyeth, who was visibly annoyed at her petition. After hearing her out and determining the facts, Count Wyeth had turned on Hannah. "You went where you did not need to go. You created this problem and you can live with it. I need blacksmiths more than I need a termagant. Either move your house or be silent. Begone, wench."
::What happened after that?:: Lacaral asked.
Bredin snorted mentally. ::Everyone laughed at her. She kept muttering, but she didn't bother Tam anymore.::
::Why didn't her neighbors say the same thing?:: Lacaral asked.
::They did, but she wouldn't listen.:: Bredin said.
::Why not?::
Bredin shrugged. ::They were people just like her. She didn't have to do as they said. Also, they tried to be polite about it.::
:Why were they polite?:: Lacaral prompted.
::Because they didn't want to argue with her.:: Bredin nodded to himself. No one wanted to have a fight with someone they saw every day.
::Exactly.:: Lacaral said. ::As for Count Wyeth?::
Bredin rolled his eyes at the thought of someone arguing with the Count. The Count had power.
::As does Herald Mani.:: Lacaral finished the thought. ::And, like the Count, Herald Mani does not have to socialize with the villagers. If a few of them are angry with him, it matters not. What does matter is the peace and quiet of the village.::
Bredin saw what Lacaral was driving at. ::If Mani puts into words what the villagers really think, they feel he has spoken for them. It quiets their resentment.::
Bredin felt Lacaral's approval. ::And the troublemaker has heard those thoughts from a source he cannot question. He knows he must abide by it, even if he resents it.::
At the end of the day, Mani once again questioned Bredin about the cases, satisfying himself that Bredin followed the reasoning that led to Mani's decision.
The villagers' cases finished, Mani moved on to the tax records the next day. While the Headman watched anxiously, Mani made only a cursory inspection of the records before handing the register to Bredin. "Tell me which ones you think we should review." He said.
Bredin scanned the register. He picked out five people whose taxes had dropped significantly over the past year. "Why did you pick those?" Mani challenged.
Bredin blinked. Wasn't it obvious? "They could be cheating." He said.
"They could." Mani agreed. "Any others you want to look at?"
Bredin scanned the register once more. Everyone else had paid roughly the same or more that year. He shook his head.
"Are you sure?" Mani said. He tapped his finger on the name of an individual whose taxes had nearly doubled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bredin could see the Headman smiling slightly. Bredin looked at Mani in befuddlement.
"Isn't it possible that Goodman Kent made a great deal more than he reported, but only reported enough to allay suspicion? Or had been making more for many years but only reported it now because he was afraid of being caught?" Mani suggested. The Headman was still smiling, but was shaking his head. "Let's ask Headman Twells." Mani turned to the Headman.
Headman Twells grinned broadly. "Bron Kent won the County Prize for best wheat this year. Count Zemon bought his whole crop for seed. Paid double price for it. Everyone around here is pretty proud of Bron."
Bredin's mouth twitched down. It seemed so ordinary. Nothing to be bothered about. Mani gave him a 'we'll talk about it later' look.
"That's reasonable." Mani said to the Headman. "Now what about those five that my Intern picked out?"
Headman Twells looked grim. "Fire." He said. "Forest fire surrounded their lands. Destroyed two houses. Two men badly burned trying to save their livestock. Lost most of their crops, too."
Bredin bit his lip, fighting to keep silent. Mani caught his expression. "Do you have something in mind, Bredin?"
::Relief powers?:: Bredin mindspoke, remembering Mani's injunction not to interfere.
"Exactly." Mani spoke aloud. He turned to Headman Twells. "My intern has correctly remembered the relief powers we have for such situations. Return the taxes for those affected. They have tax relief for the next two years so they can get back on their feet."
The Headman smiled slightly. "Thank you." Mani took the register and made a note about the relief, then signed it.
After reviewing the register, Mani took up the two cases of people appealing their taxes. Headman Twells looked embarrassed as Mani inquired about the cases. When Mani asked him was wrong, the Headman pursed his lips. "You'll see." He said.
Mani summoned the two appellants. It very quickly became apparent that the two considered themselves special. One because he'd been in the guard during the Tedrel Wars; the other because his father had died the year before.
Mani's voice was thick with scorn as he dismissed the first claim. "Otis Twells, tens of thousands of men fought against the Tedrels. Thousands paid with their lives. They fought to save their homes and their families, not so they could have privileges. Valdemar is grateful for your service, but gratitude, like a shirt, begins to stink if worn too long. Your appeal is dismissed."
Bredin caught Headman Twells trying not to smile as Mani spoke. When Otis left, the Headman exhaled strongly. "Thank you, Herald. Otis may be my cousin, but he's a bloody ass. We've been trying to tell him that for six years."
For the other, Mani was sympathetic over the loss of his father, but told the man firmly that the loss had no bearing on his taxes.
By noon, they had wrapped up their stay in Corston. A candlemark later, they were headed towards their next call on the circuit.
The Companions ambled along at an easy pace, allowing Mani's pack mule to keep up. Mani quizzed Bredin about the cases as they went along.
When Mani asked Bredin about the man whose taxes had gone up, Bredin mulled the case over for a minute. "The explanation seemed so simple and straightforward." Bredin said. "I still don't get why you bothered. It looked like a waste of time."
"It was out of the ordinary. We needed to know the why of it." Mani said.
"We can't look at everything that is slightly different." Bredin said.
"No, but you get to know the pattern of what are normal variations and what doesn't fit."
"He earned more money and paid more taxes." Bredin shrugged. "I don't see a problem."
"That's where you are wrong." Mani said. His voice was tight. "It was unusual. The explanation turned out to be very simple, but you didn't know the explanation. Assuming that there is nothing going on can get you in a world of trouble."
"My father's trade tripled after Count Wyeth commissioned a saddle from him." Bredin said.
"And you can be certain that the circuit Herald questioned the headman about the reason for the increase." Mani snapped.
Bredin blinked at Mani's sharp tone. "He did?"
Mani stared at him, saying nothing.
::He did.:: Lacaral put in.
Bredin looked down, gathering his thoughts. After a while, he said "I suppose that there are many reasons that something out of the ordinary could be perfectly innocent. But there are times when there is a problem. We have to know which it is."
"Right." Mani sounded satisfied. "Nine times out of ten, you could assume everything is fine and nothing would happen. It's that tenth time that will bite you."
The next two villages on the circuit were similar to Corston. By their third stop, Bredin found he could almost tell the whole story by the time the first few words were out of the villagers' mouths. When he mentioned that to Mani, the Herald rounded on him.
"That is a good way to get yourself in trouble. Every case is slightly different, sometimes in very important ways. If you miss those details because you think you know it all, you are going to make bad judgements. Pay attention." Mani's vehemence surprised Bredin.
"But they're all so similar…." Bredin blurted.
"They are. But the people are different. Every single one of them matters. Do I cut Tom Jones off after a score of words because John Smith said the same thing in the last village? Or do I hear him out though I realize he is just as much a fool?" Mani gave Bredin a measuring look.
"No." Bredin said carefully.
"Why not?"
Bredin paused, thinking. He looked at Lacaral's ears, which were turned towards him. ::Figure it out for yourself.:: The Companion said. ::You have a brain.::
"If you cut them off," Bredin began carefully, "I suppose they would think that they didn't get a chance to have their say."
"And?" Mani prompted.
"They would resent it. They would be unsatisfied and wouldn't listen to your decision. They might do as you said, but the matter wouldn't really be settled."
"What else?" Mani wanted more.
Bredin thought for a while. Finally, he shook his head.
"How often do Heralds come through?" Mani asked.
Bredin blinked. What did that have to do with it? What was the connection? Heralds passed through roughly once a year. That was a long time between visits. If people knew there would be a long wait and thought that the Herald wouldn't listen anyways…. The answer came to him. "They'd stop bringing their cases to us. They might take matters into their own hands."
"Would it be a bad thing if they settled these matters themselves?" Mani asked.
Bredin was confused. "But…" He began, then stopped himself. He had already seen Mani telling people in no uncertain terms that they could have settled their disputes themselves. Obviously, that wasn't his mentor's point. He thought it over. Finally, he said "We want them to work together and come to a mutual agreement. We don't want them to fight it out or try to 'get even.' "
"Exactly." Mani said. "On the one hand, we want them to reason and compromise on their own, not to turn to us for the solution to every problem. On the other hand, we are there to resolve what they can't."
"Isn't there a danger they will go too far without our guidance?" Bredin asked. "I've seen what happens when everyone makes up their mind and won't listen."
"You have?" Mani prompted.
Bredin blushed slightly. "There's a new trainee, Kensie Poldara. Just Chosen from a guard post. He was Baron of Bransat, my home town." Lacaral's ears swiveled to point at Bredin, but the Companion said nothing.
"I've met him." Mani said.
"You know that everyone thought he was a coward after the Final Battle?" At Mani's nod, Bredin went on to describe how everyone in Bransat had loathed Kensie Poldara and refused to listen to Kensie's side. He told how fantastic stories had circulated alleging Kensie had committed plainly impossible crimes. "People just stopped thinking." He finished.
::You didn't.:: Lacaral comforted Bredin.
Mani stared at Caiseal's ears for a moment. He looked over at Bredin, who was staring straight ahead. Mani reached over and put a hand on Bredin's shoulder.
Bredin smiled back at the Herald. "Do you want to know the funny part?"
Mani lifted an eyebrow.
"I still don't like him."
Mani laughed. "You don't have to like someone to be fair. Which brings me to the other point: Even though the people arguing in front of you are being stupid or you've heard it all a hundred times before, never stop listening and never let yourself be bored. They will catch that in an eye blink and decide you don't care."
"Which would mean they stop listening to us." Bredin put in.
"Yes. We want them to listen to us but not depend on us. They already put us on a pedestal to some extent, we don't want them kissing our boots like a Karsite peasant when a Voice rides into town."
Bredin looked startled. "They do?"
"Alberich says it happens. Eldan says he's seen it."
Bredin shuddered.
###
Their fourth stop, the village of Dunby, provided an almost perfect example of why Heralds could not leave the villages entirely on their own. Two families – the Grants and the Taynes – had a minor feud that had escalated to the point of all-out street battles. Fortunately, no one had been killed, but there had been serious injuries. It was only a matter of time before a fatality occurred.
The local lord, Baron Jasper Kirk, had been unable to settle the feud, partly because he was related to both families. Baron Kirk's main failing, however, had been treating each incident on its own without going to the root of the issue or seeking an overall solution. His patchwork and somewhat arbitrary decisions had only exacerbated the problem.
Herald Mani patiently questioned one family member after another – with pointed comments about their foolishness – digging slowly back through the history of the feud. Gradually, he built a list of the incidents, including the participants and Baron Kirk's decisions. Bredin winced inwardly at some of the latter, which hadn't dealt with the whole incident, but just one aspect of it.
"And just why, Peter Grant, did you think it humorous to wave a sack at Ken Tayne's horse?" Mani asked dryly of one of the disputants.
Bredin never got to hear the answer. An exhausted man in the livery of Viscount Gustav Halmar galloped into the village square on an equally exhausted horse. "We've got another missing woman in Hunberston." The man gasped out.
Mani interrupted the hearing, giving Viscount Gustav's trooper his full attention. With a few quick questions, Mani learned there had been four previous cases of women disappearing in and around the town. Two of them had been found dead, raped and mutilated by their killer. The others had never been found. Viscount Halmar had failed to find the perpetrator, though he had sent all of his men out on searches and hired additional men and women to help.
Mani looked at Bredin. "Your gift should help in this. Go. Now. As fast as you can."
Bredin threw Lacaral's saddle on and mounted. He stopped briefly at the waystation to grab his bow and some travel rations. A sunwidth later, he and Lacaral were galloping flat out for Hunberston.
Dunby to Hunberston was two days' journey by ordinary horse at a fast pace; Bredin and Lacaral covered the distance in a half-dozen candlemarks, stopping only to relieve themselves. Bredin ate in the saddle. They had set out in the mid-afternoon. Bredin came in sight of the town in the twilight of the long summer day.
The guards at the gate waved as he approached, Bredin saw one of them go running into the town.
Now that they were close, Bredin cast out with his farsight.
He nearly vomited as he rode. He found the missing woman, or rather, found her body. The body was in a dogcart, pulled by a large mastiff and led by a man along a small track leading away from the town on the far side.
Bredin and Lacaral plunged through the gate, sweeping past the guards, who were taken aback that Bredin did not stop. "Follow me." Bredin shouted.
Bredin and Lacaral tore through the town. Lacaral's hooves chimed on the cobbles as he galloped along the streets. They reached the main square, where Viscount Halmar, alerted by his lookouts, was running out of his keep.
Bredin stopped just long enough to shout. "I've found her. Follow me." Lacaral leapt into a gallop once more, heading for the gate on the far side.
They shot out of the north gate and raced down the track after their quarry.
The man heard them coming. On the dirt track, Lacaral's hooves thudded like those of an ordinary horse. At first, the man started running. The dog jogged after him. Then, realizing he could not outrun his pursuer, turned off the track to hide in the trees. He pulled a bow and knocked an arrow.
With Bredin's farsight, the attempt to hide was futile. Bredin saw the man draw his bow. Just before the man could shoot, Lacaral swerved off the track and into the bush.
The man loosed his arrow uselessly as he tried to aim at the crashing sounds of Lacaral's passage among the trees. He was reaching for another arrow when the Companion ran him down. The man tried to rise, but Lacaral pinned him with a hoof on his back.
Bredin jumped down. Ignoring the barking of the dog, Bredin hit the man with a blow he had learned from Deacon Tsareyn. The man went limp.
Lacaral kept a hoof on the man's back while Bredin knelt beneath the Companion to swiftly bind the man's hands and feet.
The dog was still barking, angrily trying to protect its master. Hampered by the dogcart, the mastiff could not come at Bredin.
"Can you quiet it?" Bredin asked.
Lacaral focused on the dog. Its frantic barking and lunging ceased. It began to whine plaintively.
::Better gag the master. He might waken and tell the dog to attack.:: Lacaral said.
"Good idea." Bredin said. He pushed a wad of cloth into the man's mouth and bound a gag over it.
Things seemed under control. Bredin looked around. In the darkness, he could only feel the shape of the cart. He did not want to think about what it contained. He thought he could smell blood and worse.
With the dog settled, Bredin took its lead to bring the cart back onto the track, but the left wheel was snagged on a bush.
"Viscount Halmar's men will be coming." He said. "Would you mind showing them the way?"
::I'll fetch them.:: Lacaral said. ::Watch him closely. If he tries anything, kick him in the head. As hard as you can.:: Bredin nodded in agreement at the anger in the Companion's mindvoice as Lacaral trotted off.
The sound of Lacaral's hoofbeats faded in the night; the captive began to moan and stir. Bredin drew his sword and put the point at the back of the man's neck. "I am Herald Bredin. If you move or make a sound, I will cut your tongue out from behind." The man stopped moving.
Half a candlemark later, Bredin could see the lanterns of Viscount Halmar's men as they came down the track. Keeping his swordpoint at the captive's neck, Bredin shouted for their attention.
They reached Bredin. Bredin lifted his sword and two of the Viscount's men took the captive's arms and drew him to his feet. Several men pointed lanterns at his face.
"Fenir Cartmill!" One man shouted. Others cursed and shouted as well.
Sensing violence in their gestures, Bredin stepped in front of the captive. "Hold him and take him to the gaol. We will have a trial."
Bredin pointed at the cart. "The body is in there."
A few of the guardsmen moved cautiously to the cart. Pointing a lantern into the box, they saw a tarp. Gingerly, they pulled the tarp back. "It's Laelle." One of the guardsmen said.
A guardsman standing near the Viscount screamed. "I'll kill the son of a bitch." He charged towards the captive. Bredin wrapped his arms around the distraught man, who fought to get by. "Let me at him. I will tear his heart out."
Other guardsmen joined Bredin, helping to restrain him. An older guardsman tried to calm him. "Easy, Todd, easy man. The Herald will see justice done."
The words were like a bucket of ice water down Bredin's back. Would he have to try this man?
::That is your job.:: Lacaral's mindvoice was sympathetic but firm.
Viscount Gustav sighed. "I am afraid I must ask you to try this matter, Herald. Not only is Fenir Cartmill a corporal in my guard, but he is related to me through our great-grandparents. I cannot allow any suspicion of favor in a matter this grave."
::But I am just an Intern.:: Bredin silently asked Lacaral. ::Can't this wait for Mani?::
::You are a Herald.:: Lacaral replied sternly. ::Mani has to finish that feud in Dunby and then he has to come here at the mules' pace. You cannot delay this for a sennight.::
Bredin squared his shoulders. "Take this man to a cell. See that nothing happens to him until I can question him in the morning. Take the body to a Healer. I will want to see the report."
Bredin could see tensions ease as he gave orders. Mounting Lacaral, he rode beside Viscount Halmar as they made their way back to Hunberston.
There was a small guard post in the town, seconded to Viscount Halmar. Bredin untacked and groomed Lacaral carefully after the long ride, ensuring that the Companion had ample bedding, water and feed. Lieutenant Inez Coffey, who was in charge of the post, showed Bredin to a small private room with a cot. Bredin tossed and turned through the night, barely sleeping at all.