Notes: Moving right along on this new year's day! Love you guys, let's hope we have a year that looks up instead of down this time.
Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Ch. 15 Pt. 1
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Chapter Fifteen, Part One
Preparations
Avery was right; Tilda had done an excellent job of making Hiram’s excuses for him, and he was accepted back into the fold with little more than a ripple. “Sick on the road, eh?” Jon had said sympathetically when Hiram took Tilda to the Yew Brew for lunch the day after he got home, as a thank you for seeing to his affairs and taking Mule back from Narion. “That’s a rough go, Hiram. You should never travel while you’re sick if you can help it, it sets your recovery back something terrible.”
“I found that out, unfortunately,” Hiram replied with a good-natured laugh at himself.
“You need soup,” Jon went on, muttering to himself as he headed back toward the kitchen. “With herb dumplings, none of the venison, that’ll be too rich. And tea with honey…” Hiram was tempted to ask if he had lemonmint, but Tilda drew his attention with a quirk of one eyebrow.
“What?”
“It’s amusing to me how everyone who comes across you wants to dote on you,” she said with a smile.
If only you knew. “I hardly need doting,” Hiram said. “I’m very capable of taking care of myself.”
“Mm, of course you are. That’s why you spent so much time with Master Surrus recently.” She looked at him archly. “Do you know how many people he’s invited into his home these past five years? Two. You, and Master Spindlestep. That’s all.”
“That you’re aware of,” Hiram pointed out, because it was a rather unjustified assumption. Why should everyone presume that they were welcome to stick their noses into Avery’s business?
Tilda, to her credit, nodded. “Nevertheless, his interest in you is notable,” she went on. “And you can’t pretend it’s not doting when I saw him bring you to town on the back of his horse, while he himself walked.”
Hiram opened his mouth to argue, then gave it up for a lost cause. It didn’t help that he wasn’t really inclined to argue against it. The thought that he was worthy of special attention was…well. Rather nice, honestly. But that wasn’t something he wanted to delve into right now, so he switched directions. “What have you heard about the Thread?”
“They’re anticipated sometime within the next two weeks. Not on a Market Day,” she added. “That would make for absolute havoc.” Hiram could see that.
She went on. “I don’t know about the last time you saw the Thread come through, but their system for testing is rather relaxed, not at all like the temples’ formal assessments. If you have a child who’s inclined toward music and singing and there’s a bard, then they’ll sing a song together. If your child has an affinity for nature, a druid might let them interact with their animal familiar. The food and drink carts set up as well; it’s very merry, honestly.”
Hiram considered that. “How many children do they usually take?”
“Oh, it’s varied from year to year,” she said. “Half of the time, I’d say none. It’s a large investment of time and money to take a child all the way to the capitol for training, you know, and by the time they reach Lollop their means are often stretched. Last year they took one, a boy who was a clear fit for ranger training. The most they’ve ever taken at one time is three, and that was over a decade ago, when the program was better funded by the emperor.” She sighed. “Things have gotten tougher since he started pouring money back into conquering. We had such a nice stretch of peace there, for a while…”
Hiram remembered it well. After finishing the wars that coalesced his power over the empire, Andurion had been tired of battle. He’d married then, had Misha, and settled into ruling well. And for a time, he really had done well. It had been a solid decade and a half of improved roads, funds for universities and learning, and magical development of all types. And then…
The assassination attempt had seemed to come out of nowhere. It had almost overwhelmed all their defenses, and it was only thanks to a huge expenditure of magic that Xerome had managed to save Andurion’s life. Investigations into the effort quickly uncovered an extensive conspiracy, and that had been the moment Andy’s trust in the people he ruled had irreparably broken.
“You told me they would love me!” he’d raged at Xerome more than once. “That improving their lives would make them appreciate all the empire has to offer! And what did I get in return? A group so emboldened by my passivity that they stoked hundreds, thousands to the brink of rebellion!”
Nothing Xerome said was enough to quell Andy’s fire. He remilitarized, punished the entire provinces the conspirators had come from, and from there set about reminding the rest of the empire that he’d brought them together in their current incarnation by force and wasn’t afraid to do it again. Xerome had watched as the cusp of a new golden age was snatched away, and the urge to flee became stronger and stronger.
And now here he was, trying to help a girl flee her own personal despot. It felt so similar he took a second to pinch himself.
“What is Letty’s spark in?” Tilda asked, and Hiram gratefully turned back to her.
“I’m not sure,” he confessed. “I think it’s speech-centric though, at least at this point. She managed to talk me into taking Knight with absolutely no warning, all while holding off her aggressive father—from their house to mine, note. He didn’t catch up with her at my front door, she literally talked him out of hauling her back to their house for almost a mile. And she’s the only one who manages to sell rabbits at Market Day, have you noticed? Her father doesn’t do anything for the family other than drive the wagon and drink himself into a stupor while she keeps them afloat.”
“Interesting,” Tilda said, then bit her lip lightly. “Hmm.”
That wasn’t a good “hmm.” “What?”
Tilda sighed. “If what you’re saying is correct, and Letty is the one keeping her family afloat…have you considered what’s going to happen to them once she’s gone? Especially now that the next-oldest child is apprenticed out?”
Hiram hadn’t, in fact, considered that before now. He could see all too clearly the arc that might play out in his mind, though—how the money for food, much less drink, would grow thin once the rabbits weren’t selling as well. How Granth would take his ire out on those closest to him, his poor, silent wife and the next child in line…another girl, Hiram remembered, and still in school. He imagined the look on Avery’s face when that girl was pulled from his class so that she could try and fill in for her missing siblings, and that was where his imaginings ceased, because things started to get messy at that point.
Nevertheless… “Letty deserves to have this opportunity,” Hiram said. “I know she wants the chance to use her spark, it was one of the first things she said to me. She’d hoped to apprentice to me, but...” But he couldn’t admit to his abilities, especially not now. Not with imperials breathing down his neck, scouring the etherium for any trace of his signature.
“But you’re not magical,” Tilda agreed, and Hiram took a moment to thank the gods that he had such an influential woman on his side. He hated lying to her, and yet he appreciated that she’d fallen for his cover entirely. “I know. It’s a hard prospect either way, in truth. Perhaps there’s something the community can do to intervene…Granth is a hard man, but he’s not incapable of seeing reason when he’s sober.” She shook her head. “Anyhow, Letty is who we should be focusing on. Are you thinking she might do well as a bard, then?”
Hiram waggled his hand a bit. “She doesn’t have any musical inclination, from what I can tell. Never hums while she works or plays an instrument, not even a shepherd’s whistle. But a spoken ability is the sort of thing a bardic college could bring out for her. Or…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “There’s edge cases as well,” he said consideringly. “For instance, plenty of diplomats are sparks.”
“She doesn’t have the upbringing for a formal diplomat’s job, though,” Tilda demurred. “Those go to aristocracy only.”
He hated that she was right. “Some other sort of guiding role, then. Someone who needs to be able to talk people around.”
“The only thing that pops into my head at the moment is working as a rogue.”
Yes, Hiram had considered that as well and he didn’t like it any better. Letty was too much of a self-sacrificial soul for rogueing. She wouldn’t last long. “This is still conjecture,” he said after a moment. “The first thing to do is make sure she’s got the spark we think she does. This is too important to make a mistake with.”
Tilda nodded. “Sensible. How do you want to go about it?”
Hiram smiled. “Actually, I was thinking another trip to town might be in order. Supplies, you know. Negotiations for this and that. Only this time, I’m going to have a bit of a recurrence in my chest cold, gods above, my poor throat.” He coughed into his hand. “So Letty will have to do all the talking to get me what I need.” He leaned in. “And if you wouldn’t mind talking to a few people about being a bit more difficult than usual when we come in…”
Tilda laughed. “I’m sure they’d be happy to draw things out. Where are you planning to go, then?”
Jon arrived a moment later, two steaming cups in hand. “Soup’s on the way,” he said. “With a hearty garlic loaf on the side. Nothing as good for the humours as garlic, you know.” He beamed at them before heading back to the bar.
Hiram took a sip. Echinacea and licorice root. Hmm. It was heavily herbal, but the honey cut the intensity of it nicely. He had a second sip, then set the cup down. “Let me fill you in.”
