Novels2Search

The Sheriff of Hnut / Ch. 11: Cargo

THE SHERIFF OF HNUT / CH. 11: CARGO

Extract from initial contact notes

Mags had a talk long-distance to Anisilakiina via Saleth yesterday.... our little meeting is now going to be the whole church, and so that Saleth doesn't get exposed as a thought-hearer (could be fatal), Mags is going to try to read a script in their language while in mental contact with Saleth who'll prompt her to try again if she totally messes up her pronunciation... there are a few opportunities to do that, apparently. like grace and a rude word.

Mags' sudden interest in history and politics has thrown Rina off balance, but Mags cannot see any sign that she's going to get in trouble.

Although she was hesitant, still she helped Mags prepare the talk, even though she didn't really understand the concepts. Mags told her that she plans to practice it and tell it to parliament. Rina was deeply shocked at the implication that Mags might have ever heard her think about parliament, but confirmed that it exists.

Post meeting addition. The meeting went really well, fortunately they use nods and shakes of the head just like Mer, so that when Mags did make the mistake she'd been warned against, she could nod enthusiastically when someone corrected her. Apart from some youngsters sniggering about the [rude-word] of God and earning themselves slaps from their parents, they were very happy to hear what we had to say about Jesus. Mags explained that she was in contact with a believing thought-hearer now, but that to protect that person she would still use the unbelieving Rina to talk to unbelievers. She also gave people a printed copy of what she'd said.

Apparently parliament only meet one day a month these days, and that's next week. Mags plans to gate-crash, and apologise.

----------------------------------------

HNUT, RESTDAY MORNING. 3RD OF WINTER

“Is there a problem?” Dirak asked, stepping out of his house at the sound of angry voices. One of them was Rangar's.

A trader's cart was in the road, at the ford, the tired-looking beast was drinking heavily.

“Yes, Sheriff Dirak. Firstly, this trader, Trum, insists on trading today. Secondly I agreed a fixed price contract with him last time he was here but he says it was at-tariff, and he's gone such a stupidly long way so he's charged me so much that I barely get a tenth of what I ought to.”

“Ah. So, Rangar, what we have is a complaint of unfair trading, is that correct?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you have a copy of your contract?”

“At home, yes, not here.”

“I'm an honest trader, officer,” Trum said, “I'm not trying to cheat no-one, but the bridge is out, see, so I had to go round the long way, and it's not my fault. And like the contract says, fair and square, unforeseeable circumstances, you can't blame me for that.”

“Yes, unforeseeable circumstances. You've evidence of course of when you learned that the bridge was out, and of your full cargo manifest for the entire trip.”

“The entire trip?”

“All the cargo you had when you collected Rangar's goods, complete with destinations and so on, contracts picked up on your way to the documented place where you heard the bridge was out, all those sorts of things. I'll be very happy to check it all through on Earthday, along with Rangar's contract, and we'll see where the honest mistake has happened, shall we?”

“Earthday? I can't hang around here until Earthday! I've got a load to get to Qnut!”

“Ah. I'm sorry to hear that. Have a very pleasant stay.”

“What do you mean, 'have a pleasant stay?'”

“It is Restday. The local by-laws say that trade shall not happen on Restday, nor shall a tariff officer carry out any tariff work on Restday. Not here, nor any of the surrounding villages. Skyday, being a customary day of rest, is not a day for hearing legal disputes. Therefore, I cannot settle the dispute until Earthday. You may of course leave, but a dispute has been raised and will be heard on Earthday. If you are not present to present evidence, then I will have to look only at the evidence I have. And of course if you leave without a tariff officer's stamp in your tariff book, you are by definition carrying goods at light-cart tariff or fixed contract.”

“When were those there by-laws written? I've never heard of them.”

“I believe that particular law was written a hundred and fifty years ago, but I may be wrong, Rangar, you don't remember do you?”

“All my life, that's all I know.”

“Look, officer, couldn't we come to some kind of arrangement? I've got to get that load to Qnut and then beyond!”

“If you wish to leave me all the relevant paperwork, along with the full disputed amount, then I will give you a receipt for them, and reach my conclusions on Earthday, pay this gentleman what he's actually due and return the documents and remaining monies to you when you return. But I cannot stamp your tariff book until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“If I leave without a tariff stamp, it'll cost me a fair bit, you know?”

“I'm sure it will. Your spiky there looks a bit tired, she's not pregnant is she?”

“It's just been a long haul, Sheriff Dirak, we were in the city on Earthday, I've got to get the load to Qnut by tomorrow.”

Dirak did some quick mental calculations. “So, you've been doing, what, twelve hour days?”

“Didn't really count, Sheriff.”

“More, less?”

“Don't know, Sheriff.”

“Because when I came up by thlunk it took me a lot longer than five twelve hour days, in good weather barring the odd shower, and there are laws about how long you can work a spiky, especially a female who might be pregnant.”

“Look, officer Dirak, please? Just give me a stamp, and I'll give Rangar what he asks, and a bit more for yourself, fair's fair, eh? I don't want to disturb your Restday.”

“I hope you didn't just offer me a bribe, Trum. That would be even more of a mistake than someone taking on an illegal contract, abusing a spiky or attempting to defraud anyone.”

“I'm not trying to defraud no-one!”

“Yes, well, I heard you say that earlier too. So who are you trying to defraud, Trum, Eh? Everyone? Your spiky's just settled down for a rest while still in harness, Trum, and is eating marsh grass, which they're well known to hate. You arrive here in the morning, with an exhausted and starving spiky, saying you were in the city five days ago? It doesn't take a genius to work out you've barely stopped day or night to get here. So, Trum, today, you are going to be letting your spiky have the day of rest the law says it needs to have after three days like you've done five of, and you're staying here. Tomorrow morning I'm going to accept the specified fine from you for having an overworked spiky, and of course it'll be double if the vet says she's pregnant, and I'll have a careful look at your paperwork and your cargo and especially check your Qnut cargo, because I'm suspicious about what's so urgent, and if there's no discrepancies I'll give you a stamp. And if you want to disagree with any of that then I'll have to place you under arrest on suspicion of carrying contraband, which since court doesn't happen until Earthday means you get two nights in the cell. Now unhitch your spiky and lead her to the fair pasture. I'm sure you know where that is.”

“No way, no way!” Trum said, “You're not checking my cargo, no way, it'll take hours, I'll never get it there on time.”

“What's the big rush, Trum?” Dirak asked, seeing something akin to fear in his eyes.

“I can't deliver it late, no way, they said, OK 'till Skyday, no later.”

“What's it going to do, Trum? Explode?”

“I'm not a bad man, Officer Dirak, I've got a wife and kid! They need me to get this there, keep them warm, no questions, Skyday latest.”

Dirak went cold, could it be stolen eggs? He'd heard rumours. Growler pups, freshly hatched were sometimes tortured for sport. A thlunk egg from a famous racer might command a high price in some circles. Or there were other eggs that could be stolen.

“Trum, you are under arrest on suspicion of carrying contraband or stolen goods.”

Trum ran. So did Dirak, in the other direction. First he slapped off the brakes, and through much tugging persuaded the spiky to get moving. Then he guided the spiky to outside the police station, and let her loose.

“Your man's getting away, officer.” Rangar said, in a confused tone.

“I know. But really, where's he going to go? He's leaving footprints in the snow, and it's at least five minutes before he gets to the top of any hill, that way. Give me a hand looking for this contraband, will you? I'm wondering if it's growler eggs or something like that.”

“Growler eggs?”

“He had a deadline, he had to keep it warm. Sounds like a hatching time to me.” Dirak said, starting to unfasten the tarpaulin.

“There's other things that hatch,” Rangar said, working on the other side.

“I know. Growler or thlunk are the nicer options. Been a very long time since an egg-napping as far as I know. And why'd he stop if he was an egg-napper?”

“He wasn't going to, 'till I saw him.”

“Doesn't make much sense to argue about tariffs and things, though.”

“No, not if he was an egg-napper. But he wasn't.” Rangar said, in a strange voice.

Dirak jumped down to see what Rangar had seen. Under the tarpaulin there was a wooden cage, and from the cage a small face looked out, with scared looking eyes, and another; Two hatchlings, about a year old, with yellow down. “Two winterborns.” Rangar said, pulling the cage apart with apparent ease and deadly rage.

“There's an old old evil here, Dirak. Yanepoli was tempted, even, I heard her walking on the hillside, arguing with herself. Don't let the winterborn see it's first hatchday, throw them away, where no one'll see. Someone's gone and done it. Probably drugged the father, of course, or he'd Zerk, maybe the mother too. Probably part of Longnight, that's one of the fine old traditions of us nobles. Horrible, horrible, up you come, little-uns.” Tenderly, he scooped them up, and wrapped them under his coat. “Who'll look after them, do you think?”

“Yagel, do you reckon?”

“Not good for little Yalinth to hear of this. Best out of the village entirely, I think, long-term.”

“Keldithanapoli?”

“Aye, The queen'll need to know, certainly. She'll need to read the charge. Short term... I don't really want to bother the pastor with this, or, what do you think?”

“I don't know many with a bigger heart than Ethepoli.”

“That's the thing. This much evil can sour someone, who'd ever bring themselves to do such a thing?”

“Rangar, can you look after them, give them some care, just for an hour or two? I've got an accomplice to infanticide to run into the ground. I was going to fly, but seeing this... I don't trust myself to take my staff, I might be tempted to cut his legs off.”

“You pin him down, I'll twist, it hurts more. No, not you little ones, Uncle Rangar's just talking silly. What do you think to some broth, eh? I expect you're really hungry. Dirak,

I don't expect you've got a zerknife, to hamstring him?”

“I saw a spare spoke. I'll take that.”

“Godspeed, Dirak, lock that vile creature up, and find out names, addresses, everything. Justice.”

“But first, I'll call Keldi.” He pushed a series of spots on his staff, to no avail. “Bah, she's busy. OK. Try Thuna....” there was a different tone.

“Hello?”

“Thuna, Dirak. I need to intervene, I'm not trusting myself to take my staff. If Keldi's around, please tell her to get to Rangar now. If not.. I don't know, you?”

“What's happening?”

“Someone read Justice or Control, page five and thought it was good advice. Two yellow hatchlings in a cage.”

“Dear Saviour! They're OK? You're taking them to the doctor?”

“Rangar's taking them home to warm them up. I'm going to chase down and arrest the trader who was going to deliver them somewhere. I don't know if the doctor will be able to face this.”

“Doctor's tough, Dirak.” Rangar said.

“OK, I'll bring the Doctor to Rangar's” Thuna said.

“Thank you Thuna.”

“Go make your arrest, Dirak. But fly part way and then plant your staff or send it home. A long Zerk-run is going to kill you. You were almost blacking out after Shashana.”

“I... hadn't thought of that. Thank you, Thuna.”

Dirak aimed his staff and flew. Not the sedate flight he'd used with Lenepoli, but the other one, where he had a cone in front of him which enabled him to breathe as he accelerated and accelerated.

Then he adjusted his grip and turned the staff. His arms were almost wrenched out of their sockets but it felt good to move, to use his rage. He'd been holding back the Zerk, he knew he wouldn't be able to be understood if he didn't. “Trum!” he roared, as he landed a few steps behind him. “You are under arrest for wilful participation in a conspiracy to commit infanticide! Stop or you may be permanently disabled.”

Trum did just what Dirak's rage wanted; he ran on. Dirak, let the enzymes flow, and felt his crest flatten. It had probably turned green in the same heart-beat.

Trum's franticly pounding legs slowed, and Dirak caught up with him easily. He calculated. It was too easy. He could have broken Trum's leg in three places between it leaving the ground and touching down again. Or to twist that hateful neck, it was too easy. Time was still slowing. To break, to destroy, that was easy. To stop, with minimum harm. That was harder. No it wasn't. Dirak stepped forward, momentarily fascinated at how slowly gravity worked on his own feet, and understanding, finally, why the cobbler had insisted on leaving unsewn sections in front of each of his toes. He needed his claws to move at this speed. When he'd chased down Shashana's attackers he'd been bare-footed, he remembered. His claws gripped the half-frozen earth, and that felt right and good. Trum's foot was still on it's way down, of course, as the millisecondsticked by, plenty of time. He fought the inertia of the spoke in his hand, it was heavier than the chair-leg had been, but there was still plenty of time. Trum's foot hit the ground, And the stick was in the perfect place. Trum's knee inched its way forward, and made contact with one end of the spoke, Dirak adjusted its aim, and stepped back, his job done. Trum's knee drove the wheel spoke forwards, into the back of his other knee. Dirak's aim had been perfect, of course, he'd had so much time to set it up. Trum's front knee folded under the impact from behind. His back knee continued in its ark, but off course because of the spoke. Trum's body started to topple forward. Time for step two, Dirak's claws again gripped the mud and dancing around the slow Trum, he pulled the back of Trum's coat up over his head, and off one arm, two. Trum's eyes were starting to widen in surprise, as Dirak looped the coat off the other arms and his claws pulling at the mud, crouched and tied one arm of the coat around Trum's two feet that were now conveniently close to each other, just as Dirak had calculated all those split seconds ago.

Breathing was slow work, and he was sure his heart rate wasn't going to keep up with his oxygen needs. Thuna had been wise, yet again. Another arm of the coat had encircled Trum's neck and been tied long before his head and chest hit the mud.

Trum couldn't run any more, so Dirak retrieved the spoke. It might be useful again. It took Trum a long time to stop, from Dirak's point of view, so Dirak pushed away the enzymes. Maybe he'd need them later. Trum stopped, and Dirak pulled his arms behind him and tied them too with coat arm number three and four. Then he started to drag Trum back down the hill to his staff. There didn't seem much worth saying, so Dirak didn't bother. Trum was stunned, blinking, not understanding what had happened, miserable and in pain at being dragged sideways, hog-tied. Dirak stuck his staff through the coat, and made it lift a little. Not much, just enough. He didn't want to be brutal to this accomplice in infanticide, that was the law's job. He realised he'd been wrong. There was lots to say.

“You will provide names, addresses, passwords, absolute and total information.”

Trum was silent.

“Infanticide is the most heinous of crimes, Trum do you understand that?”

Trum grunted.

“You will provide names, addresses, everything so that this evil can be purged. Or your family will suffer. The innocent held guilty unless you cooperate. That is the law. The law is outraged against you, Trum. When the judge sentences you for burning, if you have not cooperated, then the judge will declare that the law is insulted, and outraged, and that the law will declare it has a blood-feud against your family and your father's family and your mother's family. Do you understand, Trum? A blood feud where there are no turns, not respite, where there is only one sentence for being your relative, your cousin, your hatchling, your wife, your cousins to the fourth degree. That is the punishment for not cooperating with the law, in such an outrage as this. And each one of these deaths will be laid at your door, there will be bloodshed such as has never been since even the purges against Zerkers. So poisonous will your blood be considered, and they will cry to you to cooperate with the law to save them as they are burned before your eyes. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Are you such a monster that you will stay silent and protect the guilty with the blood of the innocent?”

“No!”

“You will cooperate?”

“Yes, I'll cooperate,” Trum said.

“Good.”

“I've got records. Everything written down, all the papers in order. It said theatrical props. Must be delivered to Qnut. I didn't know. Honest to God, I didn't know. Not 'till last night, they woke up I guess. I heard them. I took off the lid. I didn't know what to do, I just kept going, trying to think, all night long. Inside the box, there was a note. Very naughty to look, they've got my wife, my kid, insurance in case something goes wrong, they wrote. Deliver the package, none of your business, don't talk to the law. Then there was Rangar, and it was all there, already documented, what was I supposed to do? I couldn't re-write the bill! I just had to give it to him.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Do you know who sent the package?”

“Yes, yes, a regular customer. A transport agent.”

“But who gave it to him?”

“It was his writing, in the letter. I'd recognise it anywhere.”

“You've got the letter?” Dirak asked.

“Yes. I didn't know what to do, I put it back in the lid.”

“Good.” Dirak said, and kept trudging down the hill with his captive on a stick. One end of the stick was on Dirak's shoulder, the other end was in mid air; held up by the wizardry known as antigravity.

----------------------------------------

RANGAR'S HOME, HNUT, RESTDAY

“Prisoner is in behind bars, claims he didn't know what he was delivering, until they made a noise last night.”

“How many bones broken?” Thuna asked.

“None. It wasn't necessary, I just tripped him up and tied him up.”

“Well done.”

“We may be able to get DNA from a letter. He claims it's the hand-writing of an old established client, a trade-agent, threatening his family.”

“There will be a lot of blood spilt,” Thuna said.

“Yes. I told him. That's why he started cooperating. He's now writing his confession.”

“No one's watching him?”

“Lenepoli wondered why I was late for Church, so now she's missing Church too. How are they, Doctor?”

“The good thing about hatchlings while they're still fluff-balls like that, is when the get hungry they stop growing, stop moving, conserve energy, sleep. And they're so fluffy, they don't lose much heat unless there's a gale. So physically they're fine. Emotionally? Who can tell?”

The door was flung open. “Sheriff you're here! I've been looking everywhere! I heard anger, and screaming.” Yalinth said. “Horrible anger.”

“I'm sorry, Yalinth it might have been my anger.” Dirak said.

“It wasn't your voice. Doctor? Were you angry? You're never angry!” her eyes opened wide. “Where are they? Can I go to them? They're so lonely!”

“We wanted to hide this from you Yalinth. Nasty people.”

“Dangerous sharks.” Yalinth said. “Bob told me a story, I remembered. In spring. It was bed time, and he said I'm Bob Sathie Bill, and I said, that's a funny name, why have you got three names? Can I hug them? They want mummy or daddy or hugs by big angry or anyone.”

“Yes, you can hug them.” Rangar said, “They're in my room.”

“You're the one they call big angry, Rangar” Yalinth said finding that funny. “They recognise your voice and they like you.”

“Do they hear thoughts yet, Yalinth?”

Over her shoulder she said, “Maybe. They don't think in words, but they're thinking together. Oh, they don't like that! There there, Silly Yalinth didn't think. Come on, both together. There! Better? They like me too. They don't like being apart. It hurts, like no mummy, no daddy.”

A plaintiff mew escaped the hatchlings, “Yes, you heard me, didn't you, you clever pair, they understand words.” Yalinth said, adding “Yes, Dirak and Thuna, you can go. See what you can find out.”

“Doctor do you know about taking a good DNA sample?” Dirak asked.

“Not the exact technique, no.”

“OK, I'll call in someone. Magz, do you think Thuna?”

“Sithini for the machine, Magz for the sample.”

“Sheriff?” Rangar said, “Can I have a word?”

“Of course.”

“Outside. By the thlunks would be good.”

“Urm, OK.” Dirak agreed.

----------------------------------------

“You're wrong about copper. It's not the problem, it's the solution. Not the best maybe. But it works. And not farming the top fields? That's no solution, either. Those thrice be demned fluffies. No growlers up there to thin the numbers, see. Never were, and they dig, and can't leave be.”

“I don't understand.”

“You will, you're tough sheriff, I've seen that, Yanepoli says you've got that book full of evil in your library, Justice or Control, and you rip holes in it's arguments. You're tough.

That's good. You'll cope. I'm pretty tough, too, Girt's not, poor lad, He's a poet at heart, and who's ever heard of a tough poet? He's not tough at all, not where it counts when you're dealing with old evil. Lots of other guys aren't tough, either. The copper helps. Helps you forget, not think so much. And you're from Reqiq, I heard. Heard you went back and took Lenepoli. You know, then. Some things, they happened, they are and you don't disturb.

"You don't go digging round, you leave'em in peace. Poor innocent little fluff-balls. We did't know, see, when we came here. It'd been forgotten. But now we know, we can't just move the village. Who'd rebury the poor innocents? Ladies don't know, 'cept Yanepoli. Pastor doesn't know, either. Maybe that's a mistake, but it's a tradition. Yanepoli got the point really quick. Repented of what she'd ever thought of.

"Don't disturb them, certainly don't repeat it! But the thrice-be damned fluffies dig them up, So every summer, come harvest, we re-bury them, and throw copper on the fire to help us forget. Some people breathe too much, and that's not good. And the ladies don't know, it's a real shame, when they breathe that smoke, but we can't let them stay there, can we? Yalinth is going to find out though, soon enough, but especially with these two more innocents. Maybe she'll find out from me. And there might be more people taking copper, seeing them, those innocent little reminders.”

“Hoo on Utt.” Dirak said, “It's in the name, isn't it? There was a hool, a mass grave.”

“A pit of evil, where innocents were thrown, for centuries. Parents too, sometimes. The fluffies dig up cracked skulls. But mostly poor little fluff-ball bodies. They tried, once, about a century ago, not planting, leaving it fallow. And kids came and played, played with the strange round balls.”

“Dear Saviour, have mercy! And so people started deliberately poisoning themselves?”

“Yes.”

“Rangar, like you said, it's an old evil. But keeping the pastor away isn't right, surely? You need God's power to beat evil, you need prayer.”

“That's been said before, yes. We try, but... you don't hold a prayer meeting during harvest time. We can hide moving the poor little ones, but..”

“Rangar, this is an old hidden evil. But, you know what the law would say if you found a fresh dead body and hid it, even if you didn't do it, you'd share the guilt. Isn't this almost the same thing? By hiding the evil, look at how much evil is spread? People breathe too much copper smoke, people poison themselves, Ethepoli got poisoned, the doctor said another female lost her eggs.

"Surely, it can't be hidden. The ground is crying out against it, don't you see? There needs to be prayers said, by the whole village. Not just grim faced males doing what's needed and trying to pretend it didn't happen, it wasn't there, bury it in themselves, and keeping it from their wives, hiding it from their children. Surely it'd be better to publicly call it an old graveyard, and mourn the poor little innocents? Put up grave markers?”

“I was going to get you to swear to secrecy. You won't do it will you?”

“What, swear? No. But I won't talk to anyone right now, we've got immediate justice to serve. Let me pray for you instead, will you?”

“Pray for me?”

“Pray the fate of those innocents doesn't weigh on your soul any more, that God'll wash any of their blood-guilt from you and your family by the blood of his son, the saviour, that your thoughts will be protected against the forces of evil, so that you have no need to resort to poisons.”

“You can certainly pray that, thank you.”

----------------------------------------

“Dirak, Thuna said DNA-samples. Too vague. Tell me more,” Sithini said.

“Some bits of paper which almost certainly have traces of one adult and two kidnapped hatchlings, plus unknown other who may be a relative for all we know.

"We want to track down unknown other, prove its him or her and then the courts will condemn most of the family for execution.”

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“Stop killing innocents, Dirak, or you're worse than kidnappers.”

“These kidnapees are one year old yellows, Sithinilakiina. Being sent to some hole where they'd be left to starve to death.”

“I read the book. Don't adopt it's methods, big brother, or I won't talk to you again.”

Sithini said, ending the call. Dirak called back. “Sithini, I just managed to catch the guy who was transporting them. The criminals are holding his family hostage. It does not give any information about where, surprise, surprise, but he's been on a trading trip, not seen them in weeks. He has no knowledge about who is actually holding them but he was told to deliver the hatchlings and he would get something telling him where to go to get his family back at his next stop. Probably the person who I arrest when I get there is being similarly threatened. This is a major crime network. Please help stop this evil.”

“Not by killing innocents. How many of his bones did you break?” she asked with a sick tone.

“None. I tripped him up and tied his legs together and his arms behind his back.”

“Really?”

“My little sister pointed out I was giving in to needless rage last time I was that angry, so I hesitated and thought at least a second how to disable him and take him home with no breakages.”

“And then in thanks he told you all?”

“No, I told him what the law says happens to people who are willing participants to double infanticide. He was prepared to die himself without telling anything in the hope that his family would be released unharmed. He did not believe we would ever find them alive. He still does not, but he knows that helping is the only way they will live.”

“The law makes itself more terrible than any other threat.”

“You may seek to change the law if you like, Sithinilakiina.”

“Wizards don't intervene in politics.”

“You're not just a wizard, peace-loving queen. Keldi's nature screams for blood at those who would do this, but I saw a noble male push aside his thirst for vengeance to treasure two little thought-hearers. Plead for a change in the law if you wish little sister. Argue for mercy for the innocent in court if you wish, make it a condition of your helping if you wish, but help me find the guilty.”

“Make it a condition of my helping?”

“A police request to a wizard for help is just that, to an individual wizard. That's what the law says.”

“And I can make conditions that affect the decision of the court?”

“If the officer of the law making the request believes they are reasonable, do not benefit the wizard in question or pervert justice. Right now, I really want your help little sister, and as long as you're not going to demand that I don't tell people what the law is, and you don't demand that the guilty go unpunished, then I'm very likely to agree.”

“No innocents get condemned to death.”

“That's it? No restriction on torture, crippling and so on, come on, Sithini, be reasonable!”

“No innocents are in any way harmed. I will not agree to use wizardry in any way that causes harm to an innocent, even indirectly.”

“Might not the punishment of an evil person indirectly harm their children?” Dirak asked.

“I'm glad I'm not a lawyer,” she shot back. “As above, but with some kind of codicil about not letting the guilty go unpunished.”

“So, You agree to use your knowledge and tools of wizardry to pursue the guilty, but in exchange require the law to not countenance any result of your limited intervention that ends in the direct or indirect harm to an innocent except where indirect harm is a result of the just punishment of a guilty person.”

“Exactly.”

“Thank you. And you also assist the law in defending the innocent?”

“Sneaky big brother. Of course I will.”

“Sithinilakiina, in line with the commitment you have just made, please help me to identify the person that wrote the letter I spoke of, and if you have the means, track him or her down, and also if you can, identify the parents of the innocent hatchlings and track them down, so that that family can be reunited, and then set such devices as are needed to ensure that if the instigator is still on the loose, and happens to be a family member in the same house, this vile deed is never repeated.”

“Never's a long time, but I'll give it a go. Personal forcefield for hatchlings? With some kind of 'where's a parent, I'm not moving' space-time anchor... that might even work. Hmmm. Where's this letter? I can't see it.”

“Where are you?”

“Looking round your office of course, Thuna let me in. Can't you move and talk at the same time yet Dirak?”

“No thunderclap, no nothing. I'm going to ask how you did that one of these days.”

“I might even tell you when you've proven you can calculate bubble parameters properly.” Since she had a point, and getting the maths wrong meant you not only died but also killed a lot of people around you, he decided he'd let that pass.

----------------------------------------

HNUT, RESTDAY MORNING

It took a few hours for them to work out the plan and to camouflage Thunia's staff as a common walking stick. At least half an hour of the planning had centred around Dirak being convinced to let Lenepoli take the part she'd assigned herself. It had been settled by Sithini saying, “Look Dirak, it's going to be someone who looks totally unthreatening, i.e. Lenepoli or me. old lady with a staff, fine; me with a staff? Suspicious, so it's one of the two people you claim to care about the most in the world, and without my staff, all I'm going to do in a fight is scream in genuine terror, or throw up in reaction to the violence. You can't get much less threatening than that, so it's got to be me, hasn't it?”

“You'll make Lenepoli a pocket forcefield?” Dirak asked, giving in.

“And one for Trum and family, yes.”

----------------------------------------

UTTOWN, OFFICIAL RESIDENCE OF COUNTY JUDGE, RESTDAY LUNCHTIME.

“Dirak, Sheriff of Hnut, I need to see his honour about a matter needing immediate attention.”

“Who's grandma got robbed, then? Have a seat, he's busy.” the bored gate-keeper said, not bothering to move.

“I think you didn't hear me. I said immediate attention."

“You also said you were the sheriff of Hnut, therefore, since it will take you eight hours to get there at least, it can wait a bit while his honour finishes his meeting.

“Perhaps I should also say that I'm wizard-at-large Zerker Dirak, that I left Hnut five minutes ago, and I'm going to have to arrest you for obstructing an officer of law in a matter of urgency and then start kicking down doors myself if you don't immediately show me to his honour, preferably at a sprint.”

“This way, officer.”

“Just in case it matters,” Dirak said, following the man, “I need to register some deputations complete with reasonable limitations on the courts, get various other warrants, and get to Qnut in about fifteen minutes, where I will need to wake up Sheriff Gnor from his Rest-day nap, and get him to arrange a posse and arrest an unknown number of kidnappers and infanticide-plotters.” They reached the office of the county Judge.

The door opened. “Did you say Infanticide?” the judge asked.

“Yes, sir, Wizard-at-large Dirak, Sheriff of Hnut. Two yellow fluff-balls, just under a year, were being taken to Qnut, in a cage, inside a box. They had been drugged, so they stayed quiet, the trader didn't know anything until they woke and made a noise while he was stopped and he got curious.

"The delivery order said they must arrive in Qnut by this evening. They are being cared for by some reliable villagers. The cage also had a message stating that the trader's wife and child had been taken somewhere near Qnut, and would be killed if he didn't make the delivery. It was pure divine coincidence that he owed a villager money, and got seen as he tried to get past. His paperwork was suspicious and I suspected contraband. In the circumstances of his duress, I'm not counting him as a willing participant and I've deputised him to take the crate to Qnut, in order to try to find his family and arrest the guilty. I've also recruited the Chair of the council of wizardry and an apprentice who are accompanying him and another two wizardesses who are analysing DNA samples as I speak. They made reasonable requirements that their participation and identification of suspects would in no way lead to harm of innocents. We do not need to tell arrestees that their families will not be burned before their eyes if they don't cooperate though.”

“Have you promised this trader anything?”

“He has cooperated fully, but I only stated that the court would take into account that he's done so. He has also confessed, unprompted, to various trading crimes that might have been identifiable from checking his documentation and others relating to other trips entirely. He recognised the writing on the threatening letter as the agent who loaded the package, and who has arranged other contraband deliveries, but that has been drugs and spirits, nothing as large as the crate that held the two fluff-balls.”

“So he says.”

“We will obviously need to check the hool for other corpses, if we find it.”

“Do not use such an old and evil word, sheriff,” the Judge said. “We are speaking of an old evil act, your honour. The winterborns were not physically harmed, except for the drugging, but they were going to be left to starve to death where only centuries would find them, by those who regard them as a threat.”

“Lawyers will argue that you have no proof of their intentions. But certainly kidnapping. But winterborns? You speak of myths, sheriff.”

“We tried to keep their presence a secret, to not force such horror on the children, particularly one girl, who has just had her sixth hatchday, and is yellow.

Now she looks after the fluffballs too, for she heard the rage of the doctor against those who would do such things; although the doctor spoke only quietly, the little winterborn in Hnut heard her mental shout of anger against those who'd do such a thing, and also the mental screams of the fluffballs as they were separated from one another for investigation. Thought-hearing is well known among wizards to be no myth, and already this girl innocently disturbs the plans of others.

"But it does not matter that this girl hears thoughts. What matters is that the noble relatives of the mother believe a winterborn yellow is a constant source of trouble.

"There will be frantic parents, somewhere, and perhaps aunts, uncles and grandparents will show concern too if they hear. But most suspicion within the family will fall on the grandparents and great-grandparents, and the law as it stands now makes family-members unlikely to go to the police. Who will raise a complaint against this evil, when the law condemns innocent parents to the same fate as the one who has done this evil and does not speak? Perhaps the father would complain. But I expect he is being kept drugged, for fear of the Zerk.”

“I find it hard to credit your words, Sheriff Dirak, that you say families will hide such an evil.”

“Each year, about one tenth of children are hatched in the winter months. Each year about a hundred yellows are born. So we might expect ten winter-born yellows per year. In the last twenty years, the crime statistics show that two Zerkers married to deep reds have, in zerker rage, killed their wife's elder relatives, and then given no explanation as they were condemned.

"There have been no other deaths attributed to zerker attack. In the last twenty years, three Zerker and deep-Red couples have been found murdered in their homes. Relatives speak of unknown assailants, and whispered threats through closed shutters, but no scene of crime investigation has found evidence that showed an outsider was ever present in the home. There have been no similar double murders among the general population. In the last hundred years, the combined wizards and journeymen looking have found one winterborn yellow who died apparently by accident by being somewhere he shouldn't have been at age five, and one who has survived until her seventh birthday. Do these statistics suggest anything to you, your honour? Knowing them, and presented with the evidence of two little fluff-balls hidden away in a cage, sent on a week's journey and half-starved already, I am convinced that it's not just couples avoiding hatching any yellows in winter, but that some people still think that Control or Justice was well argued, and the modern laws are wishy-washy and lack honour.”

“You should have been a politician, Sheriff, then you could argue for changing the law to those who can do it. You have very reasonable grounds to suspect it was conspiracy to commit infanticide. You will need an out-of-jurisdiction warrant, and investigation orders.”

“Yes, your honour. And a posse order.”

“Of course. And you have the conditions of the wizardesses in writing?”

“Yes sir, here,” Dirak said, handing over the bundle of papers.

“I'll countersign. Sithinilakiina? I thought...”

“She was not in Reqiq with her parents, your honour, she'd just started apprentice training, and she didn't tell her teachers her full name. Her fellow apprentices didn't recognise it, and given the context weren't at all sure she was serious. I'm learning that those who are constitutionally apolitical seem drawn to wizardry.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“That some of my statistics came from the heir to the empty throne, who also hides her full name in normal circumstances. And here is the deputation order for the trader to assist in locating the next step in the chain.”

“It will be a long one.”

“I expect so, your honour.”

“To condemn a guilty person to burning is never a pleasant task, sheriff. There are always unreasonable doubts and what-ifs. And like wizards, I cannot intervene in politics. I wonder if you might request your friends with influence over politicians to add some balancing codicil, protecting the entire family of those who reveal atrocity? Or perhaps we should always ask these wizardesses to help?”

“A change of law is better, your honour.”

----------------------------------------

ON THE ROAD TO QNUT.

“Is this going to work?” Trum asked, the thirty seventh time.

“Urgent delivery of theatrical props, delivery by tonight, no problem.” Thuna's said reassuringly. “The stickler of a sheriff in Hnut refused to issue you a stamp, so just to show him, you left three quarters of your load on his doorstep, so you're actually light-cart.”

“Still don't know why I'd want to be light-cart.”

“Didn't want any trouble at any other sheriffs sticking their noses in,” Lenepoli said, “and it paid off because you got some passengers, a care-free young blue come to see the famous Qnut. and her mother's friend with her bean pole, just in case any guys get the wrong idea.”

“Don't see why you can't be my idiot of a daughter who spends all her money on dyes and fancy clothes.” Thuna grumbled.

“Because any dealer in dyes would spot my colour's real. It'd be extra risk.”

“I'm too nervous.” Trum said.

“Of course you're nervous.” Thuna said, “Some thugs have your family, and those theatrical props looked really like someone'd stuffed a couple of yellow fluffballs when you had a look on the first night, and saw the letter. You don't want some passer-by getting the idea they were real. Plus you've got a couple of joy-riders outside on the cart who say they've paid you enough you've got to be their tour-guide.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. Then I say, 'What is it, some kind of substitution kidnapping so you can get further into the woods before they notice? No don't tell me nothing. Just give me my wife and kid and I'm going to catch fish or cut wood somewhere and never leave home again.'”

“And when you get to hug your wife and kid, push the button, just in case.” Lenepoli said.

“Wizards don't intervene. Well known for it,” Trum muttered.

“Course they don't,” Lenepoli said, “But I'm not a wizard, I'm a school teacher. But if you mean it about the fishing there's a new fishing village down by the lake that was Reqiq. The fish are hungry, and there's plenty of wood around so houses are cheap to build, too.”

“Oh yeah. Cheap compared to where?”

“Drana, according to the mother I spoke to.”

“Drana?”

“That's what she said. Cheaper houses, better food and nicer neighbours, safe space for the kids to run an play, not to mention plenty of private spots in the woods.”

“Cheaper than Drana? Nowhere's cheaper than Drana!”

“It's a new place, like I said.” Lenepoli said, “No name yet, as far as I know.”

“Could be a shrewd move, get in early while there's still plenty of land,” Thuna said, “New lake, new village, new opportunities. But it's on a cart route.”

“Where's the catch?”

“It's a new lake, caused by the Reqiq landslide, it might get deeper.” Thuna said. “The dam looks solid enough though. Lots of rock in it, and no seepage, just a place where there are some holes in the original valley wall at one side which make a pretty waterfall. My professional guess is it's not likely to wash away this century.”

“Hmph. Might have a look then. Once I'm out of jail.”

“Hmm, and you do deserve a bit of jail time, don't you?” Thuna said. “Bribery, corruption, false accounting...”

“Everyone does them things.”

“Oh well, that makes it perfectly all right, then, doesn't it?” Thuna said “I'm sure the judge'll agree with you.”

“D'you mean that?” Trum asked hopefully.

“Well known for being out of touch, these wizards,” Lenepoli said.

“No I don't mean that. It was supposed to be obvious that I didn't mean that. And even if the judge is so corrupt he doesn't know right from wrong then God does. So how about asking him for more mercy then you were going to show those innocents, eh?”

“They've got my wife, my kid.”

“Two unknowns to save two knowns? Most people would agree with you. But God knows everyone. God knows your innermost secrets and he has chosen to protect

the little lost unknowns by you getting into an argument about your overcharging.

And when you're out of jail, you think of what a lucky escape you've had, then when go to have a look at that lake where Reqiq was, and you think of what a lovely life you could have there, you remember that

over a thousand people died to let that lake be there, and they were pretty good people, they weren't people who cheat and lie and steal and think they can get away with it. And if your wife and kid aren't already dead in some hole somewhere, you thank God for that blessing you got, but two young people I know didn't, because their folks lived in Reqiq. And you learn what mercy is, OK? And when you learn what God's mercy means, you think about the other thing that God did for you, the thing that makes all that pale into nothing. You think that God sent his son to die so that you could have a chance of not ending up in far worse trouble than jail, worse even than being burned as an infanticide. You think of those things, Trum. And tremble that you're getting so many chances. God is either getting you ready to serve him wholeheartedly in some pretty tough times, or you are going to be entirely without excuse when you make an appearance in his courtroom.”

“Right. That's supposed to make me feel better is it?”

“No Trum, it's supposed to make you think, and I reckon compared to that lot, getting these guys to take you to your wife and kid is going to be so simple. I mean, a bit of a swindle, for you? That's your every day bread and butter, isn't it, Trum? We're almost in Qnut, where should we visit first?”

“I hear the old torture chambers are good for a laugh,” he said sullenly. “And the theatre may or may not be open. To the sky.”