Chapter 14

“Have you had any luck finding surveyors?” Corec asked Bobo as the two of them rode along a newly formed trail between Creekbend and another village a mile north called Dobb’s Grove. The area around the two villages was where Corec had asked the farmers to settle, hopefully keeping them out of the way of danger if Larsonian forces attacked.

“I wrote to a friend in Matagor,” Bobo said. “The same one who’s helping us buy the coal stoves. Last I heard, he’s hired one surveyor so far and he’s looking for two more. I was going to write him another letter asking him to send them along as soon as they’re hired, but Leena hasn’t had time to go to Matagor in over a week, and now I don’t know when she plans to return.”

“We’ve got to stop depending on her to do everything for us,” Corec said. “Maybe you should ask your friend if he can find us a pigeon keeper. For now, I’m sure Leena will be back before a messenger could make it to Matagor, so you might as well wait for her. If she’s able to go get Carn Tammerly on time, he’ll arrive before the surveyors do, so send him out to start getting familiar with people. The first surveyor who gets here can go with him.”

“What about the other two?”

“They need to map out where we’re setting the border, and make sure everyone within it has heard the proclamation. We’ll send a couple soldiers with each of them in case some folks don’t like the news. Can you keep handling the records here, and make sure they’re all updated properly? It’s not that I don’t trust Tammerly, but I don’t really know him yet and he’ll be out traveling a lot of the time.”

“Well, I’m doing it already, and I suppose it won’t take as much effort if he and the surveyors are the ones out doing all the hard work.” Bobo gestured to the left. “I think this is the path we want.”

They directed their horses away from the already rough trail and on to one marked only by faint indentations in the grasses, following it for a quarter of a mile until they came to a farmer plowing a field. They left their horses tied to a tree branch and walked over to join the man.

“Corec,” Bobo said, “this is Westin. He brought his family out with the ... I think it was the third group to arrive.”

Corec nodded. “Mr. Westin, it’s good to meet you again. We spoke when you first came to Hilltop.”

“Yes, uhh, Lord Corec. Before you sent us out this way.”

“Oh, I’m no lord. You can just call me Corec. Or Mr. Tarwen if you prefer.”

Westin nodded.

“Now,” Corec continued, “I hear you put in a claim for five hides of land, or thereabouts.”

The farmer frowned at Bobo, who gave him a sheepish shrug.

“Your messenger came by,” Westin said. “He told me we could take what we want as long as we’re working it all by next year’s harvest.”

“Within reason, yes. If you claim a hide and a half because you’ve got a large family or because we don’t have a surveyor to measure everything out the right way, that’s fine, but five hides is too much for one family. How can you possibly work that much land?”

“I got four boys,” the man said. “They’ll all need their own places once I pass on.”

“Your oldest—he’s sixteen, right?” Corec asked. Jonson, the miller, had provided the information when they’d passed through Creekbend.

“He is.”

“That makes him old enough to put in his own claim. You can help him clear it and plant it, but you can’t go claiming his land as your own. Do you think he can handle it?”

The farmer considered that for a moment. “I reckon he can manage if he borrows my mules. Plenty of time before next spring.”

“Than whatever section of land you intended for him, let’s put it in his name. He doesn’t have to live there yet as long as he’s working it. As for the rest, do you really think you can manage three-quarters of a square mile with just your younger boys to help?”

“Your man said as long as we had it cleared and planted for next season, it was ours.”

It seemed the fellow planned to put in just enough extra effort to qualify for the claim, even if it would be too much to work the whole thing every year.

“You realize that even without your oldest son’s share, you’re looking at sixty silver in taxes?” Corec asked.

The man blinked. “Sixty? That’s every year?”

“Every year after this one. How much land were you working before you came here?”

“Hide and forty,” Westin said.

That was still impressive. Even when measured on good, flat, fertile soil, a hide came out to a hundred twenty acres, and adding forty more acres on top of that was more land than most farmers could work on their own.

“How about this?” Corec said. “Keep two hides for yourself and one for your oldest boy. If you manage to work your two, they’re yours to keep. If not, you’ll have to give some back next year. If your other sons want to farm, they can register their own claims when they turn sixteen. They likely won’t end up right here next to you, but that’s still six hides for one family. I’d say that’s a pretty good deal.”

Westin worked his jaw as he considered the offer. “But I’d have to give up two now?”

“Yes.”

“What if I send for my Pa up in Four Roads? He had his own farm before selling it. I reckon he wouldn’t mind helping out and claiming a bit of land for himself.”

Westin had to be pushing fifty. How old was his father, if he’d already retired and moved into town? Surely too old to take up farming again, especially if it was just a ruse for his son to sneak more land out of the arrangement.

“Is your Pa the one who taught you how to work a hide and forty on your own?”

“Yessir.”

“How do you think he’d feel about managing some farmland for me instead? He’d get his own claim as part of the pay, but he wouldn’t have to be out plowing the fields himself.”

Westin cocked his head to the side. “What’s this, now?”

Corec explained what he needed, and Westin agreed to send a message to his father.

With a possible lead on someone to manage the estates Branth had insisted on, Corec and Bobo returned to their horses.

“Is there anything else we need to take care of today?” Corec asked, climbing into the saddle.

“Nothing so egregious,” Bobo said. “And after word gets out that you’re paying attention, I imagine things will take care of themselves.”

“You were the one paying attention, but once Carn Tammerly arrives, he should be able to take care of this sort of thing. Just make sure he knows what’s going on.”

“Sure,” Bobo said, then was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “You’ve got to stop doing that, you know—telling them not to call you a lord. They need to call you something.”

“I’ve got a name, and I’m not a lord.”

“Are you sure about that? You’re the one in charge. You’ve got soldiers and servants. Seems like a lord to me.”

“You can’t be a lord without a king,” Corec said. “We’re working together as a group. Me being in charge is just something we tell people to make it easier for them to understand what’s going on. It’s not actually true.”

Bobo snorted. “You know very well that’s not the case. You just like to pretend otherwise. Everything we’re trying to do here would fall apart if you were gone. Think about it—Ellerie and Boktar can’t be in charge here, and none of the rest of us would be taken seriously.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re not working together.”

“I didn’t say we weren’t, but there’s a reason why everyone’s been calling you a lord.”

“That’s just because of my father.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

Corec sighed. It was getting awkward dealing with the settlers, most of whom were too timid to call him by his name but didn’t know how to address him otherwise.

“Warden,” he said. “If I need a title, I’ll use Warden.”

“Really?” Bobo asked.

“Why not? It’s the one title I can actually claim, and I’m not giving away Hildra’s or Yelena’s secrets. Most people won’t even know what it means, much less who the others are.”

And if Rusol somehow still hadn’t learned of Corec’s location, it would be impossible for him to ignore the newest clue.

“Hmm,” Bobo said. “Warden’s Keep. I like it.”

To the Honorable Mayor Alain of South Corner,

I write to you on behalf of Corec Tarwen. He received your letter with great interest and agrees with your suggestion of a meeting to discuss the changes we anticipate for the lands formerly claimed by the dragon.

Corec will be happy to receive you and your delegation at Warden’s Keep in Hilltop Village at your earliest convenience. There, we will describe our plans for the region and consider ways in which we can work together for the benefit of all.

You may also wish to know that we have completed repairs on the bridge, offering an easier route to the north if you would like to continue your travels to visit your neighbors in Four Roads.

We hope to see you soon,

Sister Treya of the Three Orders, for Warden Corec Tarwen

Treya frowned at her words. If she was supposed to be speaking with Corec’s voice, it was a skill she hadn’t yet mastered. He never sounded so stodgy. The formal tone was better for written communication, though—it helped to prevent misunderstandings.

And in any case, the real work would happen when Alain and the other southern mayors arrived. Corec’s ability to befriend people would overcome any deficiencies in Treya’s letter-writing ability.

Corec had suggested he could simply go to South Corner himself, but Leena hadn’t returned yet and Ellerie had convinced everyone it was better for Alain to see the work being done in and around the keep for himself. The people of South Corner didn’t know Corec the way the people of Four Roads did, and Hilltop’s tiny size might help to allay any fears they had about the vastness of the region the group had claimed.

Treya hated to admit it, but sending the letter under her own name and title did lend it an extra air of legitimacy. Mayor Alain’s concubine handled most of his correspondence, and she would be careful to smooth away any rough edges, both on the letters she was sending as well as those she received. With the shared connection to the Three Orders, Alain and the other well-to-do men in South Corner would be more likely to consider Corec one of their own rather than an outsider.

Treya had just set the letter aside to dry when someone knocked on the door to her suite. She opened it to find one of the chambermaids on the other side.

“Miss, there’s someone here asking for you,” the woman told her. “She says her name is Shana.”

“Oh, thank you,” Treya said. “She’ll need a place to stay for the night. Could you prepare the extra room?” There were no accommodations left in the village, and the more recent arrivals were camping out or sharing with friends while they built new homes or searched the nearby farms and villages for structures that were still standing.

“Yes, Miss.”

Treya made her way down to the first floor to greet her old teacher. Shana was barefoot, like Treya, and wearing a similar loose gray tunic and pants.

The older woman saw her coming and smiled. “You’re looking well. Nice little place you’ve got here. I take it you’ve had enough journeying?”

Treya shrugged uncomfortably. She’d once intended to model her life after Shana’s, traveling between the chapter houses and taking care of any problems she found along the way, but circumstances had changed her plans.

“For now,” she said. “I’ll show you around.”

They spoke while they walked.

“I heard you were going to Highfell to see if you could find out anything about King Rusol,” Treya said. “I hope it wasn’t too far out of your way.”

“No,” Shana said. “I was headed west already. Mother Elana in Abildgard asked me to speak to the concubine schools in Matagor about joining with the Three Orders, but I don’t expect anything to come of it. They’re just too different from us. They’re not orphanages, for one. Instead, the girls join as if it’s a trade school—like your friend Renny did.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Treya asked. “It’d be better if girls became concubines because they wanted to, and not because they’re orphans who feel pressured into it. We place too much emphasis on the concubines and not enough on the other orders.”

“It’s not so different than any other girl being pressured to find a good husband,” Shana said. “How would you go about it?”

“I think we should add a fourth order. We already have herbalists and midwives and craftswomen who don’t join any of the orders, or they join the scholars even though they don’t quite fit. We should expand that group and give them their own order. Teach all the orphan girls a craft of their own so they can support themselves, and if they still choose to join the concubines, at least they’ll have something else to fall back on. If that means we don’t train up enough concubines, then allow more outsiders to join, like Renny or what you found in Matagor.”

“The Four Orders? That would be a big change. What does Mother Ola think?”

“I just came up with it,” Treya said. “I haven’t even mentioned it to Mother Yewen yet.”

“I don’t imagine they’d be opposed to an Order of Craftswomen, but the more traditional Sisters won’t be happy about making the Order of Concubines less important. And I don’t like the idea of accepting more outsiders. The orphanages are what make us a Sisterhood. The schools in Matagor just aren’t the same.”