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Wistala went down the eight steps to the area before the barred door. Some old, dirty quill-feathers lay on the floor.
“Ahem,” Rainfall said.
Wistala heard quick startled steps inside, but kept her head down and out of sight.
“How did you get in?” a rough voice barked.
“The more interesting question, firewarden, would be by what power you kept me out of a Hypatian Hall.”
Rainfall’s voice returned to its usual soothing melody: “I just need the court’s seal on the two small matters we spoke of earlier, Sobyor,” Rainfall said.
“Prepared, and here’s the logbook, as well,” Sobyor said. “Just as well to have all neat and proper.”
“We’re not to have any business with him,” a shriller voice cut in.
Wistala heard a heavy tread step up to the grate, and smelled gar-locque and onion. The light from inside the room was almost shut off entirely. From seemingly atop her, Sobyor’s voice said: “Best sign it fast, sir. The wardens are restless tonight.”
“Judge Kal will hear every particular!” the shrill voice warned.
“Certain particulars will catch up to the high judge, one of these days,” Rainfall said. She heard him writing. “Wistala, your penny, please.”
She passed it up to Rainfall. “The transaction is witnessed by the court,” Sobyor said. “Make a record of Nuum Wistala’s credentials.”
Sobyor again, quieter: “Is that the—?”
“I must make do as best as I can,” Rainfall said.
“What are you doing, there?” the rough voice said.
“Completing a little court business,” Sobyor said. “You could read it yourself. If you could read.” Wistala smelled a candle and hot wax. “There. Signed, sealed, and seconded in the log.”
“Thank you, Sobyor,” Rainfall said. “You always were the best of men. I’ll leave you to this gloom and the barred doors.” He tapped Wistala.
“This will really get up the thane’s nose,” Sobyor cackled.
As she climbed the stairs bearing Rainfall, Wistala glanced back and got her first look at Sobyor. He was an enormous man, both tall and fat, with thick curly hair. No wonder the firewardens protested his behavior with words only. Sobyor closed one eye at her; then they were back in the entrance hall under the statues.
“That went better than expected,” Rainfall said. “Had there been a hostile low judge on duty, I would have had to submit petitions and so on, which could have slowed us up.”
It seemed a slow enough business to Wistala, who was beginning to wish she’d burned Galahall down with Thane Hammar in it, saving trouble all around. Except that would have brought a frown to Rainfall’s face. He set such a store in his legal niceties.
They walked the road a good deal slower on the trip home. Wistala trudged along ahead of Stog to keep the pace comfortable, but even Stog seemed tired. Rainfall passed the time by explaining to Wistala about the importance of the Thanes to the Hypatian Order: they could more effectively lead troops from their thanedom when gathered under a general than strangers and were supposed to be the shield and sword of the other elements of the Hypatian Order, the priesthood and the judges. But military power, pomp, and panoply went to some men’s heads like wine.
Wistala was happy to see the twin hills at the edge of Mossbell’s lands pop out against a suddenly pink sky. The far-off chain of snowy mountaintops to the east glowed orange as the dawn crept up.
Then she heard a frighteningly familiar sound from ahead.
“I hear hoofbeats,” Wistala said. “Many riders.”
“What’s that?” Rainfall asked, waking. Stog halted.
“Riders ahead,” Wistala repeated.
Rainfall looked down at her. “Get off the road, Wistala. I’ll handle them.”
“I hope there’s a few horses from the Galahall stables,” Stog said. “I’ll give them—”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Wistala said.
