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Demesne 354 - The Lawyer And The Letter
🕑 Added 2023-10-10 16:00:01 +0000 UTCIn the end, we still had to wake up early. Even with the bound tool for moving the air around to help cool the hold, we all still woke up sweaty. The water of the bay was not an option for bathing. Even if it didn't smell, all the demesne's liquid waste had to go somewhere, and I doubted they had the sort of water cleaning infrastructure the demesnes in the old continent had for fertilizer and drinking water.
We didn't really need to take a bath. After all, it was just us on the ship, and most people in the city probably stank as strongly as we did. More, since they probably worked in indoor places where they marinated in their own sweat. Call us spoiled, but we'd gotten used to having a wash in the morning and the evenings. Last night, everyone had been happily full and had been fine not washing since they hadn't worked that hard, but after a night marinating in our own juices…
Well, we undocked and went out of the way, putting enough distance that we could finish our business before the salt boats arrived. The clean salt water was refreshing to splash over us, and a last wash in some of the distilled water was enough to keep them from getting crusty when they dried. Once we emptied ourselves, we headed back to the dock. Hans, Liggs and I were dropped off before the other turned around again and went out to refill our water barrel and get more salt, breakfast just starting to be made on the bound tool stove.
I paid Yhoe for the day's docking fee, and promised the dockmaster that I'd bring back food that evening. Hans was carrying a pack with three waterskins in it, as well as another pack so that we didn't need to repeat yesterday's suffering with the food, and so we didn't need to stop anywhere to drink since I didn't trust their water and I'd rather not have to try to drink the booze. Carrying the leather folder I got yesterday, I led Hans and Liggs as we headed for Emborin and Sons. When we arrived, we were told that Ravia was busy with someone else. Rather than interrupt him, I told the runner that we'd be back later in the morning, and were willing to wait until Ravia finished his business.
After all, I wouldn't like it I my discussion with him was interrupted for someone else.
With some time on our hands, I took Hans and Liggs to breakfast, getting us a couple of hot salted bread rolls each and some meat dumplings. The latter had the ratio of dumpling to meat skewed towards the former a bit more than I'd like, but it tasted good and it was still a decent amount of meat.
After that we checked in with Emborin and Sons again, but Ravia was still occupied. I decided to stop lingering and told him we'd be back much later, probably after noon, and set off to do our other errands.
Master Yhosed was quite amenable to making three 'walking canes' on their now usable-lathe. The look he gave me said he knew what I wanted them for, but he said nothing. While swords weren't banned in Covehold, I wasn't wearing mine here. Swords got stolen and resold for their metal. Sticks, even lathed ones, weren't something people would really go out of their way to steal, and I could use one like a sword. Getting it to look like a cane was more for my benefit, in case I needed to take weight off my feet. I had no illusions about how much walking I was going to have to do.
He told us to come back for them later. I paid him a small deposit for the work, and then we were off to visit the lawyer.
Unfortunately, getting to the lawyer took more walking. They were located closer to the dungeon in the center of the demesne, at an older part of the demesne, on the other side of the thoroughfare. There were more stone-faced buildings there, with many having plaster on their walls, and even old buildings where the walls of the first floor were actually stone instead of just stone and plaster. Many buildings were stained, whitewashed or simply painted with oil to better preserve the wood, and a few buildings had actual colorful paint on them, although those were mostly on the buildings of other merchant houses, or what seemed to be other successful businesses… including an alchemist who made paint. Well, I suppose they wanted to let people know how good their product was…
The lawyer worked from a building that, to my eye, looked like it had started life at last ten years ago as a small warehouse that had been converted. The wide double doors big enough for a cart to fit comfortably through was a big clue. One of the doors had the secured appearance of a permanently closed door, leaving the entrance only half the size an almost uncomfortably narrow. Outside, a large sign was full of names with understated titles next to them, like 'Wylok - Surgeon', or 'Taluk – Deadspeaker, Dentist' and such. In the old continent, the insides would have been expanded by a Horotract, but that wasn’t the case here.
The lawyer wasn't in his office, which was locked. Helpfully, he'd left a note written on the door in chalk that said, 'I'm in the back'. As a matter of fact, a lot of the doors has the same note on them. Some soul had helpfully drawn an arrow on the floor with the words 'the back' next to it.
I had Hans and Liggs and wait outside as I went in, following the arrow. The inside was distressingly hot, even for me, giving me a good idea why the lawyer was away from his office at the moment. I followed the narrow hallway, past other closed doors, turning left twice. Someone had really tried to cram in as many little offices as they could. I applauded their ingenuity and cursed their cheapness. The walls on either side of me rose up to not quite to the ceiling, which probably kept people from suffocating in their offices but meant that people could hear the discussions in the rooms unless you went out of your way to speak softly.
At the end of the hallway was another door that stood open, and I could hear people chatting pleasantly beyond it as weak sunlight came through. I exited warily, and found a small space between the building and what looked like the building behind it, which also looked like an old warehouse. The space was open to the sky, and at the moment the sun wasn't shining down into it directly, but that would change at noon.
There were benches on the edges of the space, and several men and women sat among them, many fanning their faces with… well, anything they could get their hands on to fan themselves with. There were a few reed hats, a hard piece of leather, a small sheet of wood, things like that. A couple were playing a game of lima on a board that, on examination, had been drawn on a sheet of paper.
They all glanced at me as I came in, their expressions a mix of annoyance at me intruding and hope that I was looking for them.
"I'm looking for Master Tend?" I said.
There were disappointed sighs, but many went back to leaning back and fanning themselves or returned to their game. The only exception was a man sitting on the end of a bench two faces to my right. He got to his feet, taking a moment to fruitlessly wipe the sweat off his face. His face had the sort of roundness that would make you think he was fat if you couldn't see his thin neck and arms. His red hair was lank on his head, and he looked both eager and dreading what was to come. "That's me," he said. "What can I do for you?" Then he squinted, frowning. "Have we met?"
"We spoke last before last winter," I said. "If we can speak in private?"
He sighed. I could almost literally see him thinking 'please let this be quick' as he walked towards me. I backed away to give him room and led the way to his office. When we got back to it, he pulled a few from his pocket and unlocked the door, leading me inside. In the office was a table that serves as a desk, three chairs, and a chest that took up a corner. The desk had a small sheet of leather on it—presumably a soft writing surface—a bottle of ink, a stoppered jar, a dry seal press, a bowl of sand with a little coal in it, another small bowl with a pile of loose wax, some feather quills, and other odds and ends.
"It's too hot for either of us, so I'll try to be quick," I said, reached into the folder I'd been carrying. "My name is Rian and I'm here on behalf of the Golden Sweetwood Company. I'm here to check if anything has come in from the Company in the old continent?"
"I'm afraid I'll need proof of that," he said, sweat beading on his forehead. "I've had these beggars coming at me claiming to be from the company asking for a loan in the company's name."
Ah. Well, uh… nice to know they were still alive? "I think I know who those are. They're no longer affiliated with the company. When did you last hear about them?"
"Back… when the snow started, I think. Haven't heard from them since." His tone said they were not missed.
Oh. Well, that was… ominous. "I see." I reach into my folder and pull out the later that Yllian had drafted. "Here's my identification letter."
Tend wiped the sweat off his face and hands again before reaching for the letter. He laid it down on the table, weighing it down with an ink bottle, a rock, and a fork that I hoped was clean, before he took a magnifying lens to read the text. Either he had bad eyesight or he was doing this to not get sweat on the paper. "Hmm…Just a moment."
He turned to the chest and unlocked it with another key before opening it. With a grunt, he knelt down and rooted around inside before eventually coming back up with a stiff paper folder. It… wasn't all that full. Sitting back down, Tend opened it and took out another letter, laying it on the table and also examining it with the magnifying lens. Eventually, he grunted. "All right, everything matches up." Picking up a quill, he tested the tip, then reached for the ink bottle and opened it. After a quick dip, he wrote something on my letter before sliding it back to me.
I accepted it, mindful of the still-drying ink. He'd written his name, what I presume was the date, and an acknowledgement that the letter had been read and acted upon. Presumably, it was so that someone couldn't just steal the authorization letter and use it again in the future. I hadn't even thought of that.
"Here you go," he said, pulling out an envelope sealed with a band of paper from his folder and handing it to me before putting the folder back in the chest. "It came on the first boat of the spring. The date of receipt is written on the back."
I flipped it over to check, then nodded. "Thank you, Master Tend. I might be by later this week if I need to send a response."
He grunted. "Come yourself, and bring the letter to remind me," he said.
I nodded. "Do you like micans?"
He blinked at the strange question. "They're all right…? Why?"
"I'll bring you some when I come back next," I said, getting to my feet. "Well, I won't take up anymore of your time, Master Tend. Good day to you."
He was already getting to his feet. "And to you, Master Rian," he said as unstopped the jar and poured himself a cup of water, which was quickly drunk. Walking around the table, he didn't quite chivy me towards the door, but I took the hint and exited quickly.
Outside, it probably wasn’t any cooler, but the open sky and moving air certainly felt better than the cramped confines of the building. Hans and Liggs got to their feet as I came out, and I motioned them to follow me. “Back to Ravia again, men,” I said. “Hopefully he’s free by now.”
As we headed back, I was very conscious of the envelope in the folder I was holding. The Golden Sweetwood Company’s reply. Whatever it said, I was fairly sure Lori wasn’t going to like it. The only questions were how much she wasn’t going to like it, and what I would have to do about it.
Keeping my back straight and a little spring in my step for the benefit of the men—I can’t let them see me worried—we walked back the way we’d come.
Comments
Nnelg
A whisperer binder *could* set it up, yes. Doesn't mean they'd care enough to.
Justin Case
Why hasn't Covehold set up sewage infrastructure at this point? The demesne is about 30 years old IIRC, and it seems like a whisperer binder should have a very easy time of that. Just set up some distillation of the sewage like Lori was doing with the latrines only on a larger scale. Lorian isn't dumping their sewage in the river even. Rian is probably spending a lot more on local food than Lori would like. At least when she doesn't get to eat it too. >A couple were playing a game of lime on a board that, on examination, had been drawn on a sheet of paper. lime -> lima Also odd that they'd use paper on that since it seems like wood would be cheaper in this setting and more durable. >in from the Company in the old content?" on the old continent >Picking up a quill, he tested the tip, then wrote something reached for the ink bottle and opened it. After a quick dip, he wrote something on my letter before sliding it back to me. I think the first "wrote something" should be deleted. >Outside, it probably wasn’t any hotter, hotter->cooler At least from the context.
basilevs
When we got back to it, he pulled a few from his pocket and unlocked the door -> When we got back to it, he pulled a few keys from his pocket and unlocked the door
