Mind of the Magic (Arhel Book 3) (29 page)

The Servants conferred for a moment; then the one who had spoken before spoke again. “To travel during the time of prayer and fasting with the blessing of God, you must carry the mark of God upon you.” He cleared his throat “If you have three—”

“Five,” one of the men behind him whispered.

“—five rits, we will stamp your cart with the mark of the One True God, and you may proceed. Otherwise, you will have to wait until morning to travel.”

Both men began digging through their pockets for coins. Faia knew she had none; she’d given every bit of cash she had to Renina. Still, she made a show of looking. She didn’t want the three Servants of miserable Witte to think she wasn’t cooperating.

“Here’s one,” Edrouss said.

“I’ve a half-rit here.”

“And I found a half—that makes two.”

Bytoris pulled his pockets out. “And here is a two-rit silver. For the glory of God, brethren, would you give us our mark for four rits? We have no more money.”

The men took what Bytoris offered, then conferred; at last the man who had suggested five rits instead of three said, “We can mark your name in our book, and note that you owe an additional rit. Realize, though, that if you proceed and do not pay this money at our next asking, you will be branded as a heretic and stoned.”

Bytoris turned to Edrouss and Faia. “Do we really need to travel tonight? I’ve no real wish to die over a single rit.”

“Nor do I,” Faia said “Perhaps we could begin our journey in the morning.”

Edrouss nodded agreement.

Bytoris held out his hand to the man who’d accepted their money, and said, “We’ve decided we’ll travel by day.”

The Servant, though, didn’t give the money back. “For the traveling you have already done tonight, we’ll keep this money.”

Bytoris said, “Then we might as well go on.”

The Servants conferred, and the first said, “For five rits, we will mark your cart with the mark of the One True God, and you may pass freely.”

“We don’t have any more money. You said you would stamp our cart anyway, and we could owe you the extra rit.”

“No. For five rits, we will stamp your cart.”

“But we already gave you four!” Bytoris yelped.

“That was an earlier decision. Following our generous offer, you decided not to travel the roads at night in counter to the wishes of the One True God—for which your eternal souls surely thank you—and you donated your money to God. If you wish, now, to change your better decision to a worse one, you must pay five rits.”

Edrouss started to step forward, anger clearly written on his face.

Faia grabbed his shoulder before he could get out of reach, and nodded to the Servants. “Our blessings, then, brethren. We will return home and travel in the morning. Have a good night.”

Bytoris took his cue from her and turned the goat cart around, and the three of them returned home before their situation got worse.

“YOU have money with you?” Edrouss asked Bytoris. The goat was back in harness and trotting toward the Timnett Merchanter gate, with the newly risen sun glaring in their eyes. Faia once again sat in the seat, while the two men ran alongside.

“I have coins hidden all over me,” Bytoris told him. “I won’t take a chance on running afoul of the Servants again.”

“There are a lot of them,” Faia said. She looked over the crowd that thronged in the streets; nearly a quarter were shave-headed men in white robes.

“Bonton had more tax collectors even than guards, before the Woes began. And the lairdlaw had petty officials to plague every other segment of our lives, too. From all appearances, every cursed government official has ‘converted’ to Witte’s new religion.”

Edrouss wrinkled his nose. “They haven’t been improved by their conversion. Where do you suppose they get all those robes?”

“Gift of the god?” Faia suggested.

“Yes. I suppose so.” Edrouss frowned. “I’m not used to thinking of a god in concrete terms. We had the religious among us in my time, but their religions were ones of true faith. Which meant, of course, that they had no proof. I wasn’t a believer.”

“How very strange to have neither magic nor gods who proved their existence; I cannot actually imagine it,” Bytoris said. “What an uncomfortable world it must have been.”

“I liked it considerably better than what I’ve seen of this one,” Edrouss told him mildly.

Bytoris laughed—a short, sharp bark. “I suppose you would,” he conceded, “though you find us at our worst right now. When things are as they should be, Bonton is truly the city of the gods.”

Edrouss gave him a sidelong look. “I wouldn’t consider that a recommendation.”

“Oh, no.” Faia nodded toward the gate, trying to keep her movements covert. “Look ahead.”

As they drew nearer the gate, the crowd had thinned—and what Faia saw there chilled her. The Servants waited next to the guards, taking tithes, questioning people, checking identifications against a roster.

“This might be bad,” Bytoris said “You still have your identity voucher with you, Edrouss—er, Geos?”

“I have mine and Faia’s.”

“What did we name her? It was one of those Fisher names.”

Edrouss pulled out the paper Bytoris had forged. “Reeluu.”

“Of course. And since you two are married, that will make her Reeluu ea Rull. She still can’t speak, either.”

“I did last night, to the Servants. What if some of them are the same men?”

“What if some of the guards are the same? They might remember her.” Edrouss nibbled on his lower lip.

The men held their identification tags out as they reached the Servant who stood in front of the guards. The man looked over each of them and nodded curtly, then studied Faia’s forged paper.

“This won’t do,” he said, handing the paper back to Edrouss. “The One True God does not recognize a bought wife as a true wife. We’ll have to take her.”

Faia’s stomach knotted, though she tried to keep her expression impassive.

“Take her?” Edrouss asked.

“Brother Rull, you are committing an unchaste and immoral act by associating with a woman not your wife—to the detriment of your soul and hers. We cannot permit you to do that, so we’ll take her and send her to the Hall of Sisters with other women we have saved.”

Edrouss went pale. “I don’t want to be rid of her. What can I do to keep her?”

The Servant frowned. “It is a bad sign that you are more concerned about matters of the flesh than about your immortal soul, brother.”

“I love her,” Edrouss snarled. “This isn’t
about
matters of the flesh.”

Faia rested her hand on his shoulder and prayed to the Lady that he wouldn’t lose his temper. If he did, there was no telling what punishment the Servants would exact.

“You
love
her.” The Servant glowered. “Committing not only immorality but also putting others before the One True God. Your soul teeters on the brink of annihilation, brother.”

Bytoris sighed. “What can we do to keep my friend’s wife with us?”

“She isn’t his wife,” the Servant snapped.

The line behind them was growing—and growing restless, Faia noted. She wished she had been content to sit at home, waiting, but she didn’t think the Servant would let her return home—she remembered the coins from the night before, and thought no matter what happened, she and Edrouss dared not back up or appear to change their minds.

“What can we do?” Edrouss repeated.

“If you want to make her your wife, you will have to fill out a form at the Sanctuary of the One True God—and you will have fees. A fee for living with a woman not your wife, a fee for prayer for indulgence, a fee for filing the paperwork for your request, and a fee for the Servant of the One True God who will perform the ceremony to unite you in true marriage. Plus a cleansing fee for each of you.” The Servant shook his head. “Honestly, you could save an enormous amount of money by going through the Sanctuary and having the Perabene pick out a wife for you.”

“I’ll pay the money,” Edrouss said. “When we get back from selling our pots, I’ll go to the Sanctuary first and fill out the papers and pay the money.”

“Very well.” The Servant shrugged, then pointed to Faia. “You. Reeluu? Off the cart and come with me.”

Faia looked at Edrouss, and Edrouss turned to the Servant. “Wait! I need her to go with me, so she can help me sell the pots for our tithes. I just said I’d take care of the other things—”

“You thought you could take her with you—a woman with whom you’ve lived in violation of the laws of God?”

“I thought I could take her with me.”

The Servant turned and called another of his kind to his side. He explained his “problem” and the fact that the man wished to take his sinful not-wife with him and not leave her in the care of the Servants until he could legalize the union.

The second Servant tipped his head to one side and rested his chin in his hand. He stared off thoughtfully into space for a moment, then smiled. “Twenty rits,” he said calmly. “Dispensation from the One True God for traveling in amoral circumstances.”

Twenty rits? That was a terrible amount of money. The bastards were determined not to let her go, weren’t they? Or else they figured they had found two men who would pay whatever was demanded of them.

Edrouss looked at Bytoris, Bytoris looked at Edrouss—then both of them looked at her where she sat on the seat atop the goat cart. Edrouss had no money, Faia knew. Everything he had he’d given to the Servants the night before. Bytoris had some… but twenty rits…

Faia watched him begin pulling out coins, slowly—half and quarter coppers, split silvers, more copper—and handing them slowly to Edrouss. Neither man handed a single one of the coins to the Servants, though both of the god’s hoodlums stood there with their hands out.

“I count twenty,” Edrouss said at last. He looked to the Servant. “Please fill out the receipt that shows I paid this.”

The second Servant frowned, then walked back to the guardhouse and came back a moment later with a slip of drypress which he handed to Edrouss. “If you’re still with her after the date on the bottom and you haven’t made the union legal, you’ll be stoned for your heresy.”

Edrouss nodded and pocketed the sheet of drypress. His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

Faia considered the pending threat of stoning. It seemed to be the Servants’ answer to everything.

The Servants went over the cargo, too, and counted each pot—but finally Bytoris, Edrouss, and Faia had their first piece of luck. The line behind them had continued to grow, and people in the back began getting restless. They started complaining, and edging forward, and shouting that they needed to get through the gates—so the Servants’ inspection of the pots was only cursory.

“Anticipated sale value?”

Bytoris shrugged. “No more than forty rits, if we’re lucky.”

“We will assume you’re going to be lucky.” The Servant smiled a most unpleasant smile. “You owe ten percent of that now—here’s a credit chit. Bring that back, and completed receipts of all your sales. If you make over forty rits profit, you will owe ten percent on the extra, plus five percent in punitive tithes—for lying. You have one hundred fifteen pots in the back. Are you sure you won’t make more than forty rits total?”

“I’m absolutely certain,” Bytoris said.

“We’ll count pots against receipts when you return, then. If you claim breakage, you’d better have the shards to prove it.” The Servant waved his arm. “Move along.”

The guards stopped them next. Behind, Faia could hear the Servants beginning to grill the next people in line.

The guard at the table nodded and only glanced at the identification papers. “I figure you folks have had enough trouble for one day.” He glanced at the Servants and kept his voice down. “I hear a lot of people are settling out in the villages.”

Bytoris nodded “I can see why. Is mail getting through unread?”

“You have family still inside, eh?”

“Yes.”

The guard kept his head down and wrote something in his log. “You have to be careful who you give it to, but mail still goes through safely.” He looked up and handed a slip of drypress to Bytoris. “Though even that might not last much longer. You want to send any letters, I recommend doing it quickly.”

“Thanks, then.” Bytoris glanced at the drypress, smiled briefly, then turned and clucked to the goat.

“I DON’T ever want to go inside that city again,” Faia said.

“I don’t know that we dare to.” Bytoris frowned. “The captain of the guards gave me a list of his people that I could trust to get a message through to Renina; after we’ve talked with the Klogs, I may go back to the gate and try to do that.” He glared down at the dusty road, and kicked at a clod of dirt. “We’ll lose everything,” he said. “Our house, our business, all the things we’ve worked for—but that will be better than living with the Servants and their One True God.”

Edrouss held Faia’s hand. “I won’t take a chance on losing you to those people again. We won’t go back.”

Faia sighed. “I may have to. We’ll see what happens, but I will do what I have to do to take magic out of Thirk’s hands and give it back to all of Arhel, the way it’s supposed to be.” She shivered. “Though I really don’t want to go back there. I thought for sure they were going to drag me off to their Hall of Sisters—and if they had, I don’t know that you would have ever found me again.” She squeezed Edrouss’s hand and closed her eyes. “I hate feeling helpless.”

“You won’t be helpless forever.” Edrouss looked over at her and touched her cheek.

Love really does make the world a bearable place, she thought.

Men and women worked in the fields on either side of the road. The irrigation pumps were working again—evidently, Thirk had decided he didn’t want to do without food. Faia noted a few of the Servants scattered around the fields, though none of them appeared to be working. They stood and watched, and jotted things down on their drypress pads from time to time.

“How far out do the cultivated fields go?” Edrouss glanced at the workers, then at the fields that covered the hillside before them.