Chapter 3. Judgement

Turnes and Deaghe thought Jenryn was taking a gamble with her appeal. A previous appeal to an arbiter had seen the worker sent back to the gang. The arbiter had said the town had acted wrongly, but the work was doing her good. Others chimed in with accounts of cases that had rebounded on the appellant, until Jenryn was distinctly nervous.

She spent the morning of the appeal cleaning statues. Sebres Brahn had been born in Terlwen and, although few in the town were of the Faithful, a square was dedicated to his memory. Sebres himself stood in one corner, depicted leaning forward as he expounded doctrine, one hand outstretched in urgent appeal. Eight of his first followers, young and old, were scattered about the square. A young woman who had abandoned her mason’s tools to listen stood in the centre, two children to one side, an old man next to Sebres tilted his head to hear better, brow furrowed in concentration. All had their eyes fastened on the – well, ‘sage’ was not the right word, as Sebres was in the prime of life, thought Jenryn as she polished the old man’s bald pate. The bell-tower two streets over rang out seven times; she gave the head a last rub, put away her cloths and bucket and went off to have her conduct judged.

Four appellants were exiting as she arrived, two smiling, one red with anger, the last a woman struggling to keep a still face. The usher took her tag and motioned her to stand by the truth-stone. A moment later an official of the town bustled up, self-important in a judicial grey stole with red trim, a clutch of papers under one arm. They went to the other truth-stone, and the arbiter entered to take her chair. Jenryn looked at her apprehensively; here was the person who could free her to go her way, send her back to the gang for another two months or impose some other condition on her life.

The arbiter had a face marked by many years, wrinkled and creased, loose under the eyes and chin. Her skin was not the pale olive of the house-staying aristocrat but darkened by sun, her grey hair tucked neatly under her cap of office. She smoothed her robes with age-spotted hands, relaxed them in her lap and began.

“I have accepted this case. Jenryn of Uoka, please tell me as concisely as you can of the events at Two Springs. With your hand on the stone, of course.” The voice had the soft accent of the Brahnzhever, the land of the Faithful across the gulf, and Jenryn wondered if she had been drawn here to Terlwen as Sebres Brahn’s birthplace. Was she of the Faithful? They were notoriously strict in matters of ethics. No matter; she drew breath and began.

She had rehearsed the tale in her mind over and over, so the words came readily to her. She began with Joki’s fall out of a tree and ended with her limping arrival at Two Springs. After her first words the happenings in the hollow were passed over with a hasty ‘Yes, I understand what you are trying to describe. Move on to how you got free.’ Jenryn’s hand on the stone was steady, and the blue of conscious truth shone unwavering throughout her recital.

Jenryn gratefully drank an offered cup of cold water, standing there while the arbiter read over the recorder’s notes. Then it was the town official’s turn. He was brief. The judicial authorities of Terlwen had received a complaint from Two Rivers in regard to one Jenryn. The complaint was serious enough to warrant investigation, so Jenryn had been required to stay within the jurisdiction until matters could be resolved. As she was not able to post a bond or find guarantors, the town was feeding and housing her. The pay for the work she was assigned would cover these costs, with any surplus either returned to her or put towards any fines.

The arbiter put a series of questions. Had the authorities sent to Two Springs to interview the complainant or any witnesses, or taken any other action in regard to the matter? The official admitted that they had not. Had any of the persons involved come forward? They had not. Was the complaint endorsed by anyone of standing in Two Springs? It was not. Did the account Jenryn had just given differ significantly from that she had given the court? The official consulted his papers and agreed they were the same. Did Terlwen pay for complaints of this nature? The official admitted that a small sum might be awarded in such cases. Other than the complaints from Two Springs, did the authorities have any other issues with Jenryn? They did not.

The arbiter considered for a time, and then dismissed the official. She sat back and looked at Jenryn. “Now we come to the difficult part,” she said.

A chair was brought over and cups of tea brought. The arbiter took a sip and explained.

“I have a broad charge, in that my judgements must reflect not just the matters brought before me, but also the possible outcomes for all involved, and for the land as well. So, tell me what brought you to Terlwen, and how was it that you carried erotic Sensations.”

Where to begin? Jenryn started with her entry into the Uoka chapter of the Pilgrims of Virtue, their withdrawal, her employment at the Precious Flower Alchemist and Herbarium, Ildigun’s blandishments, her last day there and her feeling that Uoka offered nothing that she wanted. “So I took my pack, walked out and ended up here,” she finished.

“You are disinclined to physical intimacy?” asked the arbiter. Jenryn could not see that it was relevant, but answered that it was so. How did she find working in Einke’s gang? Jenryn enjoyed the camaraderie, but the work itself was uninteresting. The last batch of Sensations was unusual – how had Jenryn felt while making them? Again, Jenryn could not see the relevance, but did her best to recall her mood at the time. How did she feel about taking the Sensations from Ildigun? A little guilty, Jenryn admitted.

The arbiter finished her tea. “It’s useful to have a range of views before coming to a decision; something I learned from a tree a few years back. I may talk to Einke, and I will have someone look at those Sensations. I am here for another four days, and you will have my answer before I leave.”

* * * *

The gang greeted her return with jocular remarks – how many more months had the arbiter given her? When would the manacles be fitted? Deaghe just asked how it had gone, and Jenryn said only that she would find out in two or three days. Einke made it clear that they were here to work, not for idle chatter, and set them to cleaning the bases of all the statues. Jenryn scrubbed away, putting in some effort in to keep her nerves at bay. Taking the Sensations was technically theft; she felt justified, but would the arbiter see it that way? Were the judges justified in holding her in this gang while investigating? After all, the events in the hollow must have been very unpleasant for the bandits. Maybe they weren’t bandits, but just people playing a prank? These and like thoughts swirled about in her brain in endless multiplying loops.

She fretted through the evening, slept poorly and tried as hard as she could to keep her mind only on carrying bricks and buckets of mortar through the day. Einke disappeared for an hour at mid-day and gave her a curious glance on his return. She wondered if the arbiter had been able to get anything more than grunts, gestures and single words from him. By the evening she was resigned to her fate. The arbiter would give her another month on the gang and then send her to Uoka, where she would do another six months to pay for the Sensations. Or maybe a year, or even two. This mood carried her through the day, but the worries came back that night.

The gang was dredging the bottom of the old moat (purely ornamental these several centuries) when the arbiter’s usher turned up. He spoke briefly to Einke, who pointed with his chin to where Jenryn stood amid the rushes, heaving on the lines of a scoop. Einke walked over, tapped another gang worker on the shoulder and pointed to Jenryn. She handed over the lines and climbed up to the bank, barefoot, mired from the knee down and spattered above. He looked her up and down.

“The arbiter Proper Support requires your presence. She will not object if you take a few minutes to wash and change.” Jenryn just wanted to get things over, so did not dawdle. She came before the arbiter still damp in spots and with her hair loose. The same town official was there and, as before, both placed their hands on the truth-stones, this time to avow that they would accept the arbiter’s decisions and faithfully carry them into execution. Proper Support wasted no time.

“My judgement is this: Jenryn of Uoka is released from service in Terlwen as of now. Should she be required to attend here in the event that further information is received from Two Springs, she may be contacted through my office in Pelsie. All property in her possession will be returned today, together with the payment due for her service to date. She will be in my care, so you may send it here. That is all.”

The official seemed to have expected this outcome, for he made no protest, nor asked for any elaboration. Instead he bowed and walked away. Proper Support turned to Jenryn.

“As there is no actual evidence of any wrong-doing on your part at Two Springs, that matter falls away. Hence my decision on your service. Einke reports you a diligent worker, so I can’t see that service is teaching you anything.”

She paused to let Jenryn take this in, then went on. ”Then we come to the taking of the Sensations from your employer in Uoka. It was wrong of you, but that wrong is balanced first by her treatment of you and second by keeping the unusual Sensations you produced from sale. Unusual magic Items are more likely to be harmful than not. You did not intend this, but neither were you so foolish as to seek to profit from it.”

Again she paused. Jenryn was relieved. Was she now free to go, perhaps to resume her journey north? Wait; the arbiter had said she ‘was in her care’.

“You are due some redress for the actions of the Pilgrims of Virtue,” resumed Proper Support. Her mouth twisted at the name. “And there remains the issue of what to do with a young person who has produced a strange Item and was involved with an earth-spirit. I am advised that these can perturb the ether, with far-reaching effects. You will accompany me to Pelsie, where we will have the Sensations examined.”

* * * *

The arbiter’s carriage was well-sprung, lightly-built and made lighter by a net of cloud-plums tethered to the roof. Jenryn gingerly took her seat beside the usher and opposite Proper Support, the latter leaned out to speak to the cassowaries and they were off. For a time Jenryn sat there and watched the countryside bowl past. All the gang had enjoyed a good meal last night (her treat, with the coin paid over by the town), and lingered talking until later than usual.

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Proper Support broke the silence. “Do you have any questions about our next steps?”

Jenryn did. She learned that for the next two weeks she would stay with Proper Support and her husband in Pelsie while tests were made on the Sensations, herself and the etheric surround. She would be paid, and free to walk about the town. Proper Support said she was to think of herself as an assistant enlisted to help resolve an issue, not a culprit. Jenryn thought that as her journey had no fixed destination, a few weeks in Pelsie could not make any difference.

They rolled into Pelsie mid-afternoon. It was a short walk from the stables to the arbiters’ house, a narrow three-story brick and timber structure fronting a small square. An attendant opened the door, Jenryn was introduced – ‘the cat room, I think, Iamish’ and offered tea. She followed Proper Support to a sitting room looking on to a tiny garden where scented climbers rambled over the walls. She was by now settled enough in herself to ask questions.

“You said that there were issues to be resolved. What are they?”

Proper Support sipped her tea. “An arbiter takes those cases where there are ramifications beyond the parties involved, and then tries to shape things so that any disturbance in human affairs or in the land is rectified. In your case, you found an earth-spirit not far from a road and a village. Is this an indication that the land thereabouts is inclined to the Wild? The Sensation affected things there, and are of unknown properties. Or at least the purple and green ones are; I presume you know what the red and pink ones do?”

Jenryn was flustered. “Not really. I knew Ildigun sold them at a high price and that they have something to do with sex. I never wanted to know more.”

“Your lack of interest in that side of life saved you from assault by the earth-spirit, for they can obtain no grip on those without experience in these matters. Everything has its uses. Or, as we of the Faithful say, the Highest’s grace is seen in the smallest things.”

“I never really understood the Pilgrims’ teachings on that,” Jenryn said. “They did say that pleasure was a gift from the Highest, to be returned by giving pleasure to others. At the same time they were keen on punishment, and stricter than our village folk about what men could do and what women could do. I liked it that they valued restraint, since it meant I was left alone.”

“The Pilgrims, or rather the strands of belief strongest among them, were behind the exile of my husband and myself. At the time I thought it the worst that could befall me, and even worse yet for the young and innocent who were exiled with us. Yet it gave me much of what I had wished for in my life, and sent those with me on different and better paths. The Pilgrim’s stress restraint for its own sake, but my belief is that self-control is a valuable tool, not a goal. In your case, their restraint was useful to you as a means, in that it lifted the weight of expectation from you.”

“You were exiled?” Jenryn said, leaving aside Proper Support’s more personal insights.

“I was,” nodded Proper Support. “And now I am an arbiter. It’s good for those charged with giving justice to see its underside, I think.” She went on “We do indeed believe pleasure is a gift, to be re-gifted. If it is not in your nature to enjoy physical intimacy, then it would be wrong for you partake, for you would not be given pleasure.” Jenryn appreciated the acceptance even if she did not grasp the theology. No matter. They moved on to the practical arrangements for the next week, and she was shown up to her room. This was on the third floor, had a window looking down to the garden and cats carved into the woodwork, sitting, lying, frolicking, pouncing, dancing.

* * * *

They were joined at dinner by Proper Support’s husband, Right Conduct. He was friendly, quiet, asked no intrusive questions; it was only as she prepared for bed that Jenryn realised that his open silence had drawn her to talk more, and more candidly, than was her habit. Had she said anything embarrassing? Anything that would give Proper Support a lower opinion of her? Her mind went to a tangent. She knew the Faithful often named themselves for their aspirations in life. If so, did Proper Support see herself as loyal assistant to her husband? She had not seemed in any way subordinate over dinner, arguing cheerfully that the message of the Highest should be taken to dragons. As sentient creatures they should not be kept from knowledge of the Path, she had maintained. Right Conduct’s rejoinder was that it was hard to preach from a small intestine.

The next morning Jenryn recounted the events at Two Springs to two of the arbiter’s officers. Thankfully, they did not press her for all the details, but took notes and left to learn what they could of the village and the spirit. One remarked in parting that she could not rely on virginity, but did have five bottles of spirit repellent. In the afternoon they visited the senior alchemist in Pelsie. This worthy received them in her home, a modest cottage on the outskirts of the town. The house was unremarkable, the gardens extensive and ordered into neat plots, some surrounded by stout fences, others by weed-sticks. Jenryn was fairly sure these were to keep the plants in rather than the weeds out. A jasmine waved its tendrils at them as they opened the gate, and she noticed the bees foraged in tight groups.

The alchemist was a round woman, ruddy from the sun, hands rough and spotted with stains. Her hair was short and straitly-confined, her eyes brown and mild. They were here, Proper Support told her, to ask about the best person to look into a new kind of Sensation. The alchemist listened without comment as Jenryn told her tale, then tapped her chin in thought.

“The Sensations you made before these were nothing out of the ordinary?” Jenryn said no. “The apparatus is familiar to me – feeler-fronds, a double distillation, an essentialiser and a selective concentrater with high-gain filtration. Nothing unusual there. The customers provide most of the input, so a quarter of a cube would be good for an hour at least.” This last was said with a chuckle. Jenryn did not laugh. The alchemist coughed and went on. “The last run – can you describe your feelings at the time?”

Jenryn cast her mind back. She had been angry, disgusted, longing to escape. She did her best, haltingly, to paint her emotions. The alchemist made a few notes.

“Purple and green you say. I think you had best take this puzzle to Master Edelre. He researches new formulae when not teaching at our school. Between the library, the lab and his expertise, we will get this sorted. I will let him know to expect you. Now, it it is time I fed the roses, and I can hear the ground-mint starting to cry.”

Jenryn pictured Master Edelre as tall, thin, stooped, untidy and boring. Her imagining was confirmed instantly when she met him. After five minutes she deleted the word ‘boring’, but the rest stood. He regarded herself and the cubes with clinical detachment, recorded her story on a black pebble and asked if he could view her aura. She stood in front of a mirror while he peered through a bone frame, asking her to recall particular events.

“What did you think of Ildigun?”, “Tell me three things about your parents”, “Think of your favourite food”, “What colour is your underwear?”.

“What!”

“Ah. It provokes a reaction across several layers, and usually gets a flare in the north liminal. You flared in the east, towards the centre. Significant, I think. We go on. Can you tell me all the steps you took in producing these?”

The Sensations were analysed on an Indicator Wheel and sniffed at cautiously through a Dog-Nose Mask. Small portions of the rose and pink cubes were heated, the vapours tested with absorbent cloths and the colours compared against the illustrations in heavy volumes.

“A high quality libido enhancement, together with the usual stamina-enhancers and a mild curative. Quite a polished piece of work,” was Edelre’s judgement.

He moved on to the purple and green cubes, handling these with extreme caution. Jenryn and Proper Support were asked to observe from outside the room. He came out, asked Jenryn to sit down and regarded her over his laced fingers.

“The results were intriguing. The purple adds a disinhibitor. The green is more interesting. In some ways it resembles the potion Limp, which suppresses both desire and capacity, but this removes desire, perhaps permanently. It is as if an aspect of your character has imprinted on the formula. It would be worth replicating.” He gave Jenryn a considering look. Was he going to ask her to ‘perform’ again? Not going to happen.

Edelre mused upon the problem for a moment, then asked what she liked to drink. Tea? Liani? Something else? They sat in silence until the pot and cups were on the table, whereon Edelre went into what she would come to know as his lecture mode.

“Many alchemical processes, and particularly those which aim to affect the mood, are sensitive to attitudes. In this case, your actions were a key part of the process, and the aim – the routinely successful aim, I might add – was a substance which engendered erotic desire. Yet I understand you do not feel desire?”

“Not of that kind, no,” Jenryn told him.

“So here we have a puzzle. You knew when you made these what the aim was?” Jenryn told him that she had a good general idea. Edelre brooded on that for a time, sipping his liani. He then asked Jenryn to recall what she had felt when making the cubes on her first days and had the proportion of pink to rose cubes varied as the job went on. He was at once so plainly curious and so clinical that she felt no embarrassment in replying. She had kept her mind on things she enjoyed – dancing, walks in the countryside, the smells of her favourite foods and of trees in blossom, the feel of running water in a stream, stars on a clear night. Anything pleasant that took her away from the sordid reality of the groping tubes.

She had to think hard about his second question. After tallying her wages in her mind she was sure that, yes, at first the process had produced few rose cubes – mostly only one, occasionally none at all. In the last months there had always been at least one, and often two.

“My thought is that the user brings a large part of the sensation with them. After all, these things are taken when one is in the mood, and the situation, to engage in sexual activity. Given that this in itself encompasses a wide range of behaviours and attitudes, the cubes’ contribution can only be general in nature.’ He gave Jenryn a small smile. “If you focused on pleasures of a non-erotic character, then your contribution probably made things more, hmm, civilised.” He paused. “I wonder if it is possible to conduct a survey.”

Jenryn’s mind boggled – briefly – at the thought of Edelre stalking the streets of Uoka, clip-board and stylus in hand, asking passers-by if they used Sensations and, if so, would they mind detailing the experience. Edelre shook his head and moved on.

“The higher proportion of rose cubes, and even more the results of your last effort, show an affinity for the process – an unconscious return from the apparatus, if you will. I do not like to see such a talent wasted, nor deployed without control.” He gave her another smile. “Would you like to become an alchemist?”

“Would I need to use feeler-fronds again?”

“Not at all.”

“Then yes, I would.”

* * * *

Three days later the reports from Two Springs arrived. All four of the bandits had survived without permanent injury. They were not forthcoming on events, but it was clear that Jenryn had not led them on. The authorities at Terlwen had acted on false advice.

“As I suspected,” remarked Proper Support. “It is not for me to remedy things at Terlwen, but I can put a word in where it might do good.”

Deaghe was crossing the street in Pelsie when she heard her name called. She looked around, to see Jenryn seated at a table, enjoying a pot of tea. A moment later she was seated and Jenryn was asking for another cup and a plate of biscuits. Deaghe’s story was simple.

“I did my last few weeks on the gang, they gave me everything back and I walked here as the nearest good place to sell my dreams. I picked up another good one on the way – a Happy Moment.”

“I can maybe help with that, or at least introduce you to a good alchemist. I’m studying with Master Edelre; he’s one of the senior alchemists here.”

“That’s great. How did you swing it?”

Jenryn laughed. “He said that if I could make those Sensations, it was safer for all if I was taught how to do it deliberately. Also, they were valuable enough to cover the fees and my stipend. The arbiter knows someone with an apartment to rent, and I move in there next month. And you know the best thing? Edelre doesn’t care about anything but alchemy.”

Deaghe clapped her on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ve found your nest.”

“That I have. And, you know, I want to be as good at alchemy as that woman who won the quarter-day contest was at sword-craft. I have a chance to do something properly.”

Deaghe looked a little shocked, then laughed. “That you do.”