Gherrit met Heini for lunch two days later, a somewhat better lunch than the bowl of vegetable soup before his departure. He let her tell him the news – that the staff were back at work sorting out the mess the partners and auditors had left, except for three that had found other jobs and old Kierise who had decided to retire, that Jurd had declined to work under the new management (“and the new supervisor is much nicer”) and well, her life was going better than she had expected a week back. What of Gherrit?
“I’ve been offered a position with Iron Casket, learning for now but with a bit of travel later, so I’ll be here in the city for the next while. I’m looking for an apartment and, oh, I spent some of my winnings on a boat. Maybe you would like to come sailing one day?”
“I would like that. Tell me about her.”
So Gherrit told her about his boat, of her size, build, rig, cabin and qualities, saying that ‘she was fine for a run down to Dnangh or even beyond’ and they set a date for Heini to come out for a day on the water.
* * * *
Fangre on Glear, the north-westernmost large island of that part of the Four Kingdoms known simply as The Islands, is a convenient trans-shipment point for the middle and northern Green Sea. Coasters from the Islands, bluff-bowed carracks from the Fire Islands, craft from Kaber and Salweil and Pomos in foggy KurKroh call in to off-load barrels and crates from their home ports and take on cargo for their far-flung destinations. Commerce needs money and Fangre hosts the branches of half a score of financial institutions, from the august Shipwright’s Bank of Mer Ammery to the humble Wool-Factors’ Credit. Money of course attracts peculators of every stripe and the courts of Fangre are well-versed in numerous forms of fraud.
On this particular morning a small number of people shifted restlessly across the paved square before the courthouse, flicking the thin rain from hats and cloaks. They clumped in twos and threes, each clump taking pains to avoid the others and all focused on the green door to one side of the front steps. They were damp but not soaked when a figure in high shoes, enveloping robe and a hat that added half again their height appeared on the steps. The figure (impossible to tell if man or woman) struck a small bronze shield with a bronze rod three times, a long pause, three more times, a longer pause and a final ringing strike. The door was flung open, hitting the stone. Nothing happened for thirty breaths, then a shrouded figure came out carrying a thick pole. This was set in a socket in the paving and locked firm with a gesture. The figure repeated this twice, until three poles were in place. Another stroke of the rod and the figure returned into the dark. The small clumps drifted closer and some others, folk of the town by their dress, wandered into the square. Many of these carried baskets. The rain continued to fall.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
When the shroud came forth again it was leading – dragging – a short red-haired woman clad only in padded cloth secured about her broad loins. The red of her hair was set off by wide, painted stripes of green running down her body from hairline to feet blue with cold. She was fastened to a pole and left to stare around the square. One onlooker took a step closer and the woman bared her teeth and flexed her fingers. The hatted figure on the steps struck the shield again and intoned “For passing false coin, until the noon hour. Not to return to the Islands for three years.”
A piece of soft fruit sped from the watchers to splat against her chest. The hatted figure struck the shield lightly. Most of the crowd shuffled back but not the first groups. They remained in place. Now out of the door came the figure with two leads and staggering behind him two men, also both in nothing but the padded loin-cloths. Both had lost weight recently, for folds of flesh hung loose from flabby bodies. Their faces were stubbled, pale and drawn. One said something to the other and their leader jerked the chains. Their painted stripes alternated green and blue. When both were secured to their poles a strike called silence. “For obtaining false credit and utterance of the same, until the sun set. Not to return to the Four Kingdoms for four years.”
A strike of the gong signalled a hail of fruit and vegetables, all soft and much half-rotten. The adjudged shielded their faces with their arms and hunched down as much as their bonds allowed. Pulp ran down, obscuring the paint and making the footing slippery. The drizzling rain did little to wash it off. The first pelting died away to a desultory lobbing and the three gradually raised their heads. The woman maintained her defiance, keeping a sneer marred only by the juices streaking her face. The two men were at first stoic then, as they took in more details of the ringing crowd, expressions altered to alarm, despair and a desperate calculation. On the left of crowd stood three women in martial harness. They carried no weapons, for this was forbidden in the square, and had hurled no fruit, yet one of the men reached out to touch the other, directing his attention. Further along and a little back in the crowd were two men in grey cloaks; they too bore no visible weapons and had thrown nothing, yet the chained men bit their lips. The last were four people – two men and two women – in plain clothes, with empty hands and steady stares. One had reminded an over-enthusiastic participant of the rule about soft stuffs only. Eyes flicked from women to grey cloaks to plain clothes and back again.
“If I bite the warder they will keep us here overnight,” offered one in a low voice to the other.
“Shut up. Just shut up.”