Part 13 (2/2)

”It sounds as if I should order the cloudsteeds to make regular reconnaissance flights.”

”A good idea, but if we're going to keep them this busy, it might be sensible to bring down the second Wing.”

”The Queen won't like it,” Darius said. ”Active duty costs more.”

Otorin turned from the window and raised his eye- brows, but said nothing.

”Well,” Darius said into the silence, ”at least we'll be doing something.”

”You are to be commended on your restraint,” Oto-

72 rin said, and Darius was not sure whether he was being ironic. ”It isn't like you to sit and do nothing.”

”I've been riding around talking to the locals,” the General admitted.

”And?”

”The more I see the less I like this Semicount.”

”Oh, really?”

Darius sighed and took another drink before reply- ing. ”When we first arrived the people around here sang his praises; understandable, of course. We'd ridden to his rescue and it was safer to say what they thought we wanted to hear. There's grumbling now though and what I see are hedges, lots of hedges, and sheep, most of 'em bearing the lord's brand. The common pasture's been enclosed.”

”You should get out of Stronta more often,” Otorin said, recrossing the room and taking his seat. ”It's go- ing on all over. Manors are being strengthened at the expense of the small tenant farmers. Boonwork is being commuted for money, and at a very rapid rate. What used to be the privilege of the freedman is becoming a burden on the cottar.”

”Can't say as I like it,” Darius remarked. ”I'm old- fas.h.i.+oned, I'll admit, but the old customs and the old duties worked well. The lord consumed and controlled, but the villagers ran their own lives, made all the agri- cultural decisions when it came to their own holdings.

”That's another thing. This Semicount kept meager estate by all accounts, stints on feastdays, provides thin beer, serves oat bread instead of wheat at the Plough Supper.” He snorted. ”It's no way to treat one's peo- ple.”

”Peasants always gripe about their lords,” Otorin ob- served mildly.

”Oh, there's more to it than that,” Darius replied.

”The bailiff's nowhere to be found. It's said that he's 73.

in the castle with his master, but I have a feeling that he was murdered. And I can't find anybody who'll ad- mit to being reeve.”

”So there's no one to look out for the lord's inter- ests,” Otorin said.

”No tallage has been collected; though there have been deaths, no one has paid heriot or gersum. There hasn't been a Hallmoot since Greeningale.”

”So Spa.r.s.edale hasn't collected any taxes or fines to tide him through the loss of the harvest.”

”More to the point, justice hasn't been done,” Darius returned. ”Once order goes, a small society like this one crumbles.” He stopped and cleared his throat. ”I'm thinking of presiding at a special Hallmoot.”

Otorin smiled. Typical, he thought. ”Why not?” he said. ”It'll give you something to do instead of sitting around and swilling ale.”

”You take altogether too many liberties for a sub- ordinate,” Darius growled amiably. ”Now that you're back, you might try and make yourself useful. Organiz- ing that team of sappers might be a good place to start.”

<script>