Captain Rinon shrugged. “They’re nothing but some Dualist scum. They snuck out here from the Quarter a few years ago, in violation of the law. The Matriarch hasn’t bothered to do anything about it because they pay taxes on the crops they grow and the fish they catch. Along with generous bribes, I’m sure, to persuade her to look the other way. But she has the right to send them back inside the walls where they belong whenever she chooses.”
“I see.” Ozor turned back to the settlement with narrowed eyes. Men worked in the fields, wielding hoes between long rows of tall green stalks. Children played in the street while women gathered around the well at the outskirts of the buildings. “I suppose it’s only right that the Matriarch should enforce the law.”
“Exactly.” Captain Rinon kicked his horse and headed down the slope.
Gevan followed. Now that he knew the truth, he realized it should have been obvious. The residents wore the same drab clothing as the Dualists in the city. Among the buildings was a small domed structure. He realized with a twist of horror in his gut that it must be the shrine where they practiced their foul rites and blasphemous rituals. Why hadn’t the Matriarch put a stop to this long since? They were blatantly breaking the laws that kept Ramunna safe.
Captain Rinon shouted as his horse cantered past the buildings. “In the name of the Matriarch, clear the streets! Any Dualists found outside their lawful environs will be hauled in chains to the Matriarch’s dungeons! Any that resist the actions of her representatives will be shot!”
The other guards rode behind him, bows drawn. Women screamed and scattered into houses. A few ran to snatch up children who’d stopped playing to stare open-mouthed at the guards. One young woman raced up the road to the fields, crying a warning.
The guards rode back and forth along the street until they were satisfied no one would dare venture from behind their doors. Rinon beckoned to Ozor. “We’ll inspect the dock. That will give the men time to get into the houses and out of our way.”
Gevan dutifully translated. As they followed Rinon to the shore, he twisted in his saddle and looked back. The Dualist men were coming down from the fields in a tight group, heads bent toward each other in heated discussion. Occasionally one would shake a fist or point toward them. Most were carrying hoes or mattocks, Gevan saw with a lurch of fear. There were at least twenty of them. If they chose to make a determined stand in defense of their homes, they might be able to hold off the handful of guards.
They’d be foolish to try, Gevan reminded himself. The guards were far better armed and were trained fighting men. Even if the Dualists managed to defeat them by sheer numbers, in a few hours an avalanche of reinforcements would arrive to overwhelm them. Rinon certainly seemed unconcerned. Sure enough, the group of Dualist men broke up as they reached the buildings, each going to his own house and vanishing within.
“Gevan, get over here!” Rinon called. “Tell me what he’s saying.”
Gevan swung down from his horse and joined the others on the dock. After a quick consultation with Ozor, he relayed, “Ozor wants to know if the water is deep enough for their ship to moor at the dock.”
“Plenty deep. That little tub of theirs shouldn’t have any problem.” Rinon paused. “Um, phrase that more tactfully, would you?”
“Of course.” Gevan hid a smile. “Ozor, Captain Rinon assures me the depth is adequate for your needs.”
Ozor stared into the dark water off the end of the dock. “I need to make sure. Kabos, did you bring the sounding line?”
“It’s on the ship.”
“Didn’t you think we might need it?”
Kabos frowned at Ozor. “It didn’t occur to me.”
“I told you we’d be inspecting the dock and the harbor. It didn’t
occur
to you that we’d need to check the depth? I made a special effort to secure free access to the ship so we could get our equipment.”
“I’m sorry. I’m a farmer, not a sailor.”
“I expected you—” Ozor bit off his angry words, glancing at Rinon, who was watching the unintelligible argument curiously. He took a deep breath. “We’ll just have to take our guide’s word for it. If he’s lying, you’ll be rowing the boat back and forth until we can extend the dock.”
“I’ll do whatever you require,” Kabos said. His tone was suitably meek, but as Ozor turned away Gevan saw Kabos shoot him a smoldering glare.
“The harbor seems suitable. Show us around the fields, please.” Ozor brushed past Rinon, not waiting for Gevan’s translation or the captain’s reply.
Rinon muttered to himself in annoyance, but followed. Gevan and the others headed for their horses. Kabos hurried to reach his mount, which one of the guards was holding along with Ozor’s and several others. His shoulder knocked Gevan’s as he went by. Gevan wasn’t surprised that the taciturn farmer didn’t apologize.
Kabos reached the guard and snatched his horse’s reins. Ozor glared at him. “What’s the rush? We won’t reach the fields any quicker if you get in everyone’s way.”
Kabos shook his head and dragged his horse around. Ozor scowled and started to turn away, then swiveled back. “What’s that?”
Gevan looked where he pointed. A heavy pack hung from the back of Kabos’s saddle. It was distended in a distinct round shape.
Kabos swallowed and blinked at the pack. He glanced at Ozor, then dropped his eyes and shuffled to his horse’s side. Slowly he unfastened the pack from the saddle, opened it, and drew out a coil of rope with markings at intervals along its length and a lead weight at one end. “Nirel must have fetched it for me.”
“I wasn’t aware any of the women had been back to the ship.” Ozor studied Kabos, frowning.
Kabos shrugged.
Ozor glowered at him for a long moment, then shook his head and gestured toward the dock. “Take a reading.”
Kabos slung the coil of rope over his shoulder, handed the reins back to the guard, and stomped off. Ozor followed. Rinon waved Gevan after. “Keep an eye on them.” His horse pranced sideways, and he kneed the beast into a circle.
Gevan hadn’t realized Nirel had ventured back to the ship. It was fortunate she’d been back by the time he arrived with Kevessa. The girl had better not try to take his daughter off with her on any such expedition. The area between the palace and the docks was one of the roughest in the city. Even if one detoured around the Beggars’ Quarter, it was impossible to avoid all the dangerous places. He hoped Kevessa wasn’t aware such squalor existed. Perhaps he should reconsider allowing her to associate with Nirel, although at this point that would surely break both girls’ hearts. At the very least he should speak to Nirel and make his expectations perfectly clear.
Kabos knelt at the edge of the dock and lowered the weight into the water. Ozor crossed his arms and tapped his foot. One by one the marks slipped under the surface.
Kabos looked at Ozor. His voice was impassive. “Two fathoms.”
“What? That’s far too shallow. Take it again. Cast it out farther this time; maybe the weight got hung up on the dock supports.”
Kabos repeated the sounding. “I get the same thing. Only two fathoms.”
“Let me see. If that slime is lying to us—” Ozor snatched the rope from Kabos’s hands. “Wait a minute. Something’s not—You idiot! You’re reading it wrong again! There’s three fathoms of depth here. Not as much as I’d like, but it will do. Get up. I should know better than to try and teach a landsman about the sea.” He coiled the rope around his arm with sharp motions, throwing droplets of seawater across Kabos as he climbed to his feet.
Kabos ignored them. “My apologies.”
“Be more careful next time. This place seems perfect for our needs. If we don’t accept the Matriarch’s offer, who knows what sort of hole she’ll try to stick us with.” He turned and looked down the shore toward the city, though it was out of sight behind the sheltering point. “But maybe it’s too perfect. Maybe there’s some flaw we won’t notice until too late. If you’d been right, and the water had been that shallow, we could easily have missed it.” Ozor handed the sounding line back to Kabos. “Keep your eyes open. Check everything. If you see anything even slightly suspicious, tell me. I’d rather deal with another false alarm than pass over something wrong.” He clapped Kabos on the shoulder. Kabos nodded.
They returned to the horses. Gevan mounted quickly and sidled his horse next to Rinon’s. In a low voice he related what he’d heard. Rinon listened intently, but at the end he only shrugged. “Nothing I say will convince them we’re telling the truth. They’ll have to see for themselves.”
The group trotted through the empty streets of the village to the terraced fields. Gevan drank in the lush green of the wheat stalks, just starting to flush golden at the tips as the seed heads matured. A soft breeze rippled across the field, sending the stalks dipping and rebounding in undulating waves. Maybe the obvious richness of the land would ease Ozor’s suspicions. Gevan was sure the Matriarch wouldn’t try to cheat him, at least not until she had a wizard safely in hand. Gaining access to the Mother’s power was far too important to her. She’d never risk it over something so petty.
Kabos surveyed the fields, his eyes intent. Gevan could read no expression on his face. He swung down from his horse and walked along the rows, reaching out every now and then to catch a stalk of wheat and run it through his hands. He snapped off a ripening seed head, broke it open, and chewed thoughtfully on the plump kernels. Ozor dismounted and followed. Gevan joined Rinon and the others straggling behind. A number of the other men of Ozor’s company fanned out through the field, stroking the wheat with greedy, possessive fingers.
Kabos scooped up a handful of dirt and crumbled it. He stopped, looked more closely at it, and rubbed it between his fingers. He took a few steps further along, grabbed another handful, and repeated the process. Agitated, he strode halfway across the field, pushed through a few rows heedless of the stalks he broke, and closely examined the soil a third time.
“Ozor, look at this.” He thrust his hand under Ozor’s nose and squeezed the handful of dirt. It broke apart and ran through his fingers. “It’s mostly sand. I can’t understand how they grow anything in it.” He shot a baffled look around the verdant field. “Soil like this should be barren. I don’t know what sort of trick they’re playing, but something’s very wrong.”
The dirt looked perfectly ordinary to Gevan. He rapidly translated Kabos’s words for Rinon.
He’d barely finished when Ozor rounded on Rinon. “What’s the meaning of this? Kabos has farmed all his life; he knows the land. He says this soil is worthless. Does the Matriarch think we’ll be content with second-rate land none of her own people want?”
Rinon bristled. Gevan had to race to keep up with his angry words. “Look around! Does this land look worthless to you?” He crouched and scooped up his own handful of soil. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but this is fine soil! My father and all my ancestors were farmers. I know what I’m talking about.”
Kabos muttered to Ozor, “He’s lying.”
Rinon jumped in before Gevan could translate. “I heard that!”
Ozor took a step forward and put his face close to Rinon’s. “My farmer knows what he sees,
liar
.”
Rinon turned to Gevan for the translation. Gevan maneuvered his body between Rinon and Ozor and held up a hand to each of them. “Gentlemen, calm down. There’s no need for insults.” He repeated his words in Ramunnan. “Obviously there’s some sort of misunderstanding. Rinon, you say this soil is like the good soil you know?”
“Better. I don’t think this would need nearly as much fertilizer as my father’s land.”
Gevan turned to Ozor and Kabos. “Rinon says this soil shouldn’t even need as much—” He stumbled, for never in his studies of the language of ancient Miarban had he come across a word for “fertilizer.” “As much, um, additions to the soil, as that on his home farm.”
“Additions?” Kabos gave a scoffing laugh. “The soil in this land is so poor it must be given additions to bear?”
Rinon bristled at the translation, but Gevan held up a hand to stop him. “What do you use for fertilizer?”
Rinon scowled at Kabos. “Seaweed and cattle manure, composted together for a few months and tilled into the fields before planting. Are the farmers in Tevenar really ignorant of such a basic process? Without fertilizer, no soil in Ramunna will grow more than weeds.”
Ozor listened as Gevan translated. Gradually, his face grew thoughtful. Instead of directly replying, he turned to Kabos. “What do you think? Would adding the things he describes truly turn poor soil good?”
Kabos eyed Rinon skeptically. “Perhaps. Manure can certainly help a crop grow. But to depend on that, instead of the native vitality of the soil… I don’t like it.”
“He claims all of Ramunna is this way. If we’re going to farm here, we’ll have to learn their techniques.” He turned and looked out over the sea. “Even without farming, we can earn a living by trade. A good one, if I’m any judge. There’s a thriving market in the city for luxury goods. I can find the artisans, discover where the best price differentials are. It’s simple. With the ship, we can range up and down the coast. What’s in the fields right now will feed us for a year. Even if we get no harvest next fall, by then I’ll have trade routes established and we can buy what we need.”
“You’ll go back to your old life as a trader?” Kabos scowled at Ozor. “What happened to all your fine talk about independence and self-sufficiency?”
“That was before we found this place. Ramunna’s not like Tevenar. They value trade here. I can make us rich. Tell me you wouldn’t love to see your daughter decked out in gold and jewels.”
Kabos squeezed his handful of dirt until it squirted between his fingers. He opened his hand and dumped it out, wiping his hand on his breeches. “If you choose to believe these strangers over your sworn companion, that’s your right.”
Ozor put his hand on Kabos’s arm. “I trust you, my friend. But this alien land is beyond your experience. It’s clear to me they understand how to make this soil bear, and I’m sure you can learn to do the same.”
“You told me to tell you of any suspicion I had, and that’s what I’ve done. You’re our leader. I’ll do as you command.”