I knew we weren't going to get off that lightly - Suettay may have lost the skirmish, but she was bound to come back for the rest of the battle. After all, we hadn't eradicated her, just sent her away from us, presumably back to her castle-and once on her own territory, she'd be able to start plotting again. She didn't strike me as the kind of person who would give up. Considering that she had sold her soul and promised her boss a sacrifice, she couldn't give up, or she'd end up in Hellfire, permanently. Extremely permanently.
It made me uneasy, wondering what deviltry she was going to hit me with next. After all, she knew my weak point-I glanced over at my weak point, but she was only a heat shimmer in the sunlight. That wouldn't keep Suettay from being able to find her, though. I resolved to keep an eye on Angelique, even if I couldn't see her. About midafternoon, we came to a village that definitely looked as if it had seen better days. The thatches on the cottages were ragged and moldering; patches of daub were missing on the walls, letting the wattle show through. There was garbage in the streets, as if the people were too tired to take it as far as the garden patches to dig under for compost. The people themselves were ragged and gaunt, walking with a shuffling gait, hunched over, as if the weight of the world were on their shoulders. They darted us quick, suspicious looks out of narrowed eyes, and as quickly looked away, speeding up to get away from us. Within five minutes, we were walking down a street that showed not a single sign of life; there wasn't even a dog or a pig to go snuffling among the garbage.
Too bad; I would have bought it for roasting. The pig, that is, not the dog. I was that hungry, and I shuddered to think how Gruesome must have been feeling. But I noticed a larger-than-average hut with a pole sticking out above the door, and from the pole hung a bunch of broom corn-dry enough to use for sweeping, but still a " us which meant the place was a tavern.
"Let's see if they have anything to eat." I angled toward the house.
"If they do, I am not sure I would care to dine upon it." Frisson gave the dried broom a jaundiced eye.
But Gruesome perked up and rumbled, "Food!" so Frisson decided it would be a good idea, after all. At least, they followed me in, and so did Gilbert. Angelique's form brightened as she came into the gloom of the hut, but she disappeared instantly, leaving behind only a murmured, "I must not alright the landlord."
We sat down at a table. It was quiet as a tomb. I waited restlessly, watching Gilbert fidget and Gruesome drool, until my impatience got the best of me. Finally, I cried out, "Ho! Landlord!" A formerly portly individual-at least I assumed he must have been fat once, because his apron was wrapped completely around him, and the strings were cinched three times-came out, frowning. "What the devil do ye Then he saw Gruesome, and blanched.
The troll rumbled, "Foooood!"
"But-but there is no food!" the tavernkeeper stammered. "At the least, there is little enough so that only my wife and hairns may dine, and that poorly. All else has been taken by the queen's bailiff!" I sat rigid for a moment, then forced myself to relax and said,
"That sounds like pretty high taxes."
"Tax' There is no question of tax-'tis a question of what the queen will let us keep! 'Tis simply that the crown takes all but the smallest quantity that will keep us alive to raise another crop! Every year they have taken more, and it has been two years since I had hops enough to brew my ale! We live by a small patch of garden, my wife and I, and poorly at that, for three-fifths of it goes to the queen, and on two-fifths must we dine!"
I felt instantly sorry for the guy, but Gruesome had started growling, and Gilbert was standing up, loosening his sword in his scabbard and saying, "If that be so, 'tis my duty as a squire to-" just then, the door crashed down.
Yes, down, not open-and half a dozen men in steel caps and leather jerkins burst in, waving halberds and shouting, "Out! Out, one and all! into the square with you all!"
"What!" one shouted, seeing Gilbert's hand on his sword. "Would you strike 'gainst the men of the queen's bailiff? Nay, Beiner, slay him!"
Gruesome bellowed, surging to his feet.
The soldiers stared for about one second. Then they slammed back against one another, scrambling for the door.
"They are strangers! They burst in without asking leave!" The innkeeper ran over to the soldiers' side fast. "I told them I have no food to sell, and they-" His fawning restored some measure of poise to the lead bully. He grabbed the man and threw him back to his mates, snarling, "Aye, like enough! We have naught to do with travelers-we have been bidden only to bring the townsfolk! Out with you, now!" And he made a hurried exit, leading his men out with the tavernkeeper in their midst-and Frisson and me right behind him.
in the middle of the press of bodies, Frisson hissed, "Master Saul, why have we come with the soldiers?"
"Because I'm curious," I hissed back. "But they might spot me for a ringer, because of my clothes. if they chase me out, you stick with it and come back and tell me what's going on.
"If I can," Frisson muttered, glancing about him fearfully. That struck me as amusing. Frisson was probably the most dangerous man there, but he was scared! Somehow, though, I managed to restrain my boundless mirth.
The soldiers herded us out into the village square, along with a hundred other souls of both sexes and all ages. Another dozen soldiers were drawn up there around a roaring fire, and in front of them strutted a little, stocky man in a long black robe embroidered with astrological symbols. He grinned as the villagers were herded up, as if savoring the sight. When they were all there, he snapped, "You have not paid your taxes!"
A moan of dread swept through the crowd-but the tavernkeeper stepped forward. "Nay, Bailiff Klout-we have paid, we have all paid!"
"You know that we have!" an old woman wailed. "Why, you were young among us, yourself-"
"Aye, and the most despised and shamed of any!" Klout snapped back, eyes glittering. "Fools! You could not see my inner greatness! But the shire reeve did, and has given you all into my power!"
"And every year you have made our taxes higher!" a woman groaned.
"The queen is never satisfied," Klout retorted. "Yes, you have paid your taxes for each person, each household-but you have not paid the tax for your village!"
"A tax for the village!" A man with a long white beard stepped forward. "Never have I heard of such a thing!"
"You hear of it now! The shire reeve has given me leave to take as much from you as I will, the better to serve the queen . . ."
"He keeps a share for himself, right?" I hissed to Frisson.
"It is the custom," Frisson acknowledged.
and I have deemed it fit to levy a tax for the village as a whole, due to the shire reeve and the queen! Ten pieces of gold! Pay! Pay now what you owe!"
"But we have no more money!" a woman wailed. "All our coins you took long ago!"
"Then I will take cattle or pigs, grain or fruit! But you will pay, you will pay, or I will burn this village down!" The people gasped with horror.
Klout surveyed them, gloating. "You laughed at me when I was a small, clumsy runt of a child! There is not a woman of my own age who did not mock me for an ugly gnome when I was a youth! Well, mock now! Laugh now! For by the queen, I surely shall!"
A low moan rose and swelled among the villagers.
I could sympathize with Klout, but only just so far. Revenge I could understand, but this was way too much.
"No coin?" Klout cried. "Why, then, burn!" And he gestured to his men, who yanked torches from the bonfire and whirled them around their heads, setting the flames to roaring.
But another roar answered them-Gruesome, waddling out of the tavern, and beside him strode Gilbert, bright sword drawn. Klout recoiled. "What monster is that!"