Cloaks by F. A. Fisher

Author:F. A. Fisher [Fisher, F. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Adventure, Epic Fantasy, Coming of Age, Cloaks--series, F. A. Fisher
Publisher: EQP Books
Published: 2016-05-20T00:00:00+00:00

A modest fence enclosed the field acreage. At the gate station, an aging vasik saluted Heldrick.

“Where’s the overseer?” Heldrick asked.

“One moment, Mastron.” The vasik disappeared into the station for a few seconds. When he returned he said:

“You can find Senoral Durnstaff at the spring apple orchard. Follow the fence to the corn fields, then turn left and keep going.”

Heldrick nodded; the fellow opened the gate for him. Heldrick rode through, disturbed.

Senoral Durnstaff. A single rank below Heldrick’s feigned mastron. Heldrick had thought the overseer would be a menodral. Browbeating a senoral could present difficulties. And a senoral was more likely to have known the mastron Bess had killed. Heldrick should withhold the name, if possible.

Only two guards rode around the spring apple orchard to keep the workers from loafing. That meant that these were conscripts, not criminals. Wellen and Arrick would be elsewhere. Heldrick rode up to Durnstaff and returned the offered salute.

“I’ll require two of your workers as soon as you can give them to me,” he said.

Durnstaff stared. “That would be next week. Why don’t you order a quick conscription?”

“I’ve no time. I didn’t mean when you can spare them, I meant the moment you show me an appropriate group to select from.”

“What’s this for? What do you mean, ‘appropriate group’?”

“Can’t say.” If he admitted that he wanted to select from the criminals, Durnstaff would balk. The Overseer of the Fields regularly contended with the Overseer of the Mines for criminals, as they were used for the nastiest jobs and were often in short supply. Best to get Durnstaff’s agreement first.

But Durnstaff continued to stare, and Heldrick shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. This man did not respond well to unexplained orders.

Heldrick remembered another Citadel, which in his time owned a reputation for strange projects, and said, “It’s to do with Norvenmot Citadel. Other than that I cannot say.”

“Those bastards,” Durnstaff muttered. “Always up to something.” He chewed on his lip, glanced at the Kallikot emblem on Heldrick’s clasp.

“Well, all right. How long will you need them?”

“Perhaps a day or two. Perhaps forever.”

“You mean they might die. You want to select from the criminals then.”

Heldrick shrugged.

“Damn! Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

Heldrick turned his head and gazed into the distance.

“All right, be that way. But you’ll wait until I’m through here.”

He’s trying to make me angry, Heldrick thought. “How long will you take?”

“An hour and a half.”

Absurdly long. “I’ll wait.”

Durnstaff nodded and rode around the field, checking the work. Within ten minutes he returned.

“Let’s go. The criminals are at the slog paddy today.”

Heldrick let Durnstaff lead. The man didn’t seem in the mood for conversation.

A half dozen alert guards, mounted, surrounded the paddy and the thirty or so workers within. Heldrick couldn’t see the faces of the hunched-over workers. Durnstaff said, “Wait here,” and rode his horse to one of the guards, to explain what Heldrick wanted. He plans to leave then, Heldrick thought. Ideal.

Heldrick tried to see which of the workers had the leg ulcers that came from working in the alkaline mud of the paddy.

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