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Not all Renunciates lived apart from the larger world, after a period of re-education and training. The enduring gifts of ruthless self-examination include integrity and the development of critical thinking. For those Renunciates with the interest and aptitude, the justice system offers a way of putting those qualities to use for the betterment of all Darkovans. So it’s not surprising to find a Renunciate judge untangling a mystery or two in the early years of recontact with the Terran Federation.
Barb Caffrey is a writer, editor and musician from the Midwest. Though “At the Crossroads” is her first-ever Darkover story, she has written a humorous fantasy novel, ELFY, that will be published in 2014 by Twilight Times Books. Previous stories and poems have appeared in Bedlam’s Edge (with late husband Michael B. Caffrey), How Beer Saved The World, the Bearing North anthology, the Written Word online magazine, Joyful Online, the Midwest Literary Magazine, and at e-Quill Publishing. Find her at Elfyverse (AKA “Barb Caffrey’s Blog”) for discussions of all and sundry, or at Shiny Book Review.
Moving now into the years of adjustment and conflict between Darkover and the Terrans, she offers another tale of challenging boundaries and the Renunciates.
––––––––
“The trouble in the Hellers started over a chervine.” Fiona n’ha Gorsali stood before the Courts of Arbitration in her best judicial robe with her short brownish-gray hair tidy as always, and hoped she looked calmer than she felt. She was here to answer for her actions, but by Zandru’s ninth Hell, she’d not bow to anyone. “It rapidly grew in both time, effort, and scope. My report should’ve given you some idea as to why I involved the Terranan, especially because of the crops and the bees—”
“Your report was somewhat sketchy. We need to know why you made these particular choices.” Chief Justice Coryn di Asturien’s gray eyes gave Fiona no clue as to how this hearing would go, and none of the other seven justices on the Courts of Arbitration gave her so much as a hint, either. The Chief Justice sat in the center behind a long, high wooden table with the other justices seated to either side of him, three by three. A chair at the end of the right-hand side was vacant, the chair Fiona had one day hoped might be hers—but after she’d had to make the difficult judgment she was now about to answer for, it was most unlikely she’d ever manage to claim that chair for herself.
“I’m the Circuit Court judge for the Caer Donn region,” Fiona said. “We had unexpected trouble in the Hellers—”
“Isn’t there always?” mocked Andres MacAnndra, the youngest justice on the court. Still auburn-haired, he was an even-tempered and fair-minded justice. Fiona had met him many times at judicial conferences, and he usually had a smile on his face rather than the scowl he wore today.
“Silence!” the Chief Justice thundered. “Continue, mestra Fiona.”
“When the litigants came to me, I did not know the scope of the problem,” she started. “In my court were two angry people, fighting over an unexpected chervine foal. Here’s how it started....”
~o0o~
“That foal should be mine by right,” Donal the harnessmaker said as he stood before Fiona. A thin, balding, and unassuming man from Nevarsin entering his fourth decade, most women wouldn’t give him a second glance. “Just because my old chervine Dusty didn’t show signs of pregnancy before I sold her, that doesn’t mean anything!”
“It takes nearly twelve months for a chervine to foal,” Fiona pointed out. It might be spring, but she wore her warmest homespun robe. Being so thin, the cold affected her. “Yet most chervines do show signs of pregnancy by the second month, do they not?”
“They do,” Donal admitted. “But there have been many miscarriages in the Hellers lately, ever since the Terranan came—and the crops are dying, too!”
“Stick to the issue at hand,” Fiona instructed. “Dusty had a foal and died giving birth. But by this time, Dusty belonged to the plaintiff, Jessamyn n’ha Doria?”
“Yes, Dusty did,” Donal agreed. “I sent Dusty away, mostly because I thought she should live out her remaining years in a climate that might be easier on her than Nevarsin. Jessamyn told me she lived in Temora—”
Well, Temora was far to the south and was certainly warmer than the Hellers. Fiona followed Donal’s logic, but she still had to ask, “Is that true?”
“Yes, mestra,” Jessamyn, a youthful, stocky brunette, agreed. “I was born and raised in Temora, and I hope to return there soon.” Jessamyn’s clear hazel eyes showed she was far from intimidated by these proceedings.
Which is just as well, Fiona thought. She hated people coming into her court who were obviously overwhelmed, as it was hard to get accurate testimony.
“There were no signs of Dusty being in foal at the time you bought her?” she asked Jessamyn.
“No, mestra, there were none,” Jessamyn said. “And I didn’t think to have any of the Guildwomen who are specialists in veterinary medicine check her over, either, as Dusty was twenty-two years old and had never previously foaled.”
“Understood,” Fiona said. Why would a chervine that had never foaled suddenly give birth at near to twenty-three years of age—ancient for a chervine—only after she was sent down from the Hellers? Fiona needed to consider this in more depth.
“Had you attempted to breed Dusty in the past?” Fiona asked Donal.
“I had, yes, mostly because she was steady, sure-footed, and intelligent—a model chervine in every respect,” Donal said. “But the pregnancies never took. Anibal told me there must be something in the water causing the miscarriages.”
“Anibal the veterinarian? From here in Caer Donn?”
Donal nodded. “He’s well respected. I valued Dusty very much.”
“So you did,” Fiona murmured. Anibal was the best veterinarian in the Hellers. “Please continue.”
“I never would’ve sold her, had I known she was in foal,” Donal said. “I think she lost her life because the plaintiff insisted on riding Dusty all the way to Temora.”
“That had nothing—” Jessamyn started hotly.
Fiona banged her wooden gavel. “Most chervines can handle being ridden up until their eighth or ninth month of pregnancy. They are working animals. So there’s no cruelty involved, as I see it. Besides, Jessamyn n’ha Doria didn’t know Dusty was pregnant.”
“Absolutely, mestra,” Jessamyn agreed. “Once I knew Dusty was in foal, we were on our way back to the Caer Donn Guildhouse. So I consulted with Anibal.”
Fiona said, “He told you Dusty was pregnant and about how far along she was, correct?”
“Yes, mestra.”
“What did you do next?”
“I put her in Darrell’s barn,” Jessamyn reported. “It’s the safest, warmest barn around. It has its own water supply that’s reputed to have never been befouled, not by the Terranan or anyone. And I made sure to feed her what Anibal recommended for pregnant chervines; I did everything he asked.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Fiona saw her court clerk, Miralys n’ha Rakhaila, gesture for her judge’s attention. “The court will now take a recess for one hour,” Fiona decided. She watched the litigants file out of the courtroom—actually a converted space near Darrell’s barn—while she waited for Miralys. The dark-haired, dark-eyed bailiff, Randal, closed the door behind the litigants with a thump. “What did you want me to know before I rule?” Fiona asked.
To her surprise, it wasn’t Miralys who spoke; it was Randal. “Mestra Fiona, there have been many problems with chervines aborting foals in the Hellers. Donal is telling the truth.”
“This seems like a simple case,” Fiona said. “You don’t think so?”
Randal said, “No, I don’t. But all I can offer is my own evidence, if you’re willing to hear it.”
“I’m always willing to hear from my court officers,” Fiona said. “What do you know about spontaneous miscarriages in chervines?”
“My favorite chervine, Star, has been in foal four times in the past five years,” Randal stated. “Every time, I’ve done what the veterinarians tell me—Anibal or one of his assistants—and every time, Star has lost the foal. My well abuts the Terranan base.... Anibal thinks the well water is causing the miscarriages.”
“Has he said why it must be the water?” Fiona asked.
“No, he hasn’t,” Randal said. “But he said this didn’t happen anywhere near as often before the Terranan came. And for whatever it’s worth, my well was clean then.”
Fiona sighed. Involving the Terranan was risky, especially since neither the Courts of Arbitration nor Lorill Hastur wanted them to know much about Darkover. But if they were somehow harming chervines, water, or anything else in the Hellers, they needed to know so they’d stop doing it. That much was clearly under her jurisdiction.
She must ask Anibal about this without delay. “Do either of you know where Anibal is likely to be at this hour?”
“At the Starmaker’s Tavern,” Miralys said promptly. “He likes their tripe stew, preferably with dark ale.”
“We need Anibal to testify and confirm—or deny—Randal’s report,” Fiona started. “Please bring him to me.”
“Certainly.” Miralys hurried out.
Fiona turned to Randal. “Donal said crops were dying and insisted it’s the fault of the Terranan. Is this superstitious blather, or does Donal have any facts supporting his allegations?”
~o0o~
“You asked the question exactly like that?” Chief Justice di Asturien asked.
“Yes, vai dom, I did,” Fiona confirmed. “I’ve had many of the lower-ranked Terranan in my court. They’re like anyone else; they get drunk and disorderly, have disputes over property, and other than a few female spacemen—who are no rowdier than many who’ve slept off a night’s drunken carouse in a Renunciate Guildhouse—there’s nothing at all to remark upon them.”
“That’s why you wondered if the Terranan had really done something wrong, or if it were all just reputation?” asked Justice MacAnndra.
“Yes, vai dom, it was.” Fiona sighed. “While I’m sure the Terranan can be just as venal and corrupt as anyone else, and aren’t opposed to making a quick profit, either, I saw no reason for them to deliberately pollute our water. They keep saying they want to be our friends, that we’re descended from them—which seems very odd, but then again, they look almost exactly like us and act like us, so maybe they’re right.”
“Careful,” the Chief Justice warned. “Lorill Hastur wouldn’t like you saying that.”
“Is he here?” Fiona asked. “Even if he were, my goodness, vai dom! We search for truth wherever it leads us, even if it’s unpleasant or upsets the current social order. Jurists must stay impartial in order to mediate clashes of clan or creed. That’s one of the earliest laws on the books, as it comes down from the Ages of Chaos, and it’s one of the holiest laws I know.”
“You are, of course, quite right.” Di Asturien nodded his gray-haired head. “So you were questioning your bailiff—”
“Randal, yes,” Fiona said. “And he said...”
~o0o~
“Donal is correct, at least in part,” Randal said. “But I also think the Terranan may be getting blamed for more than their due. I haven’t been up to Nevarsin in years, but I have heard the Aldarans imported pesticides for their crops about three years ago.”
“I’ve heard the same,” Fiona allowed. A nedestro brat of the Aldarans she’d met in a local tavern had bragged about them. The chemicals supposedly did everything but cure the wasting sickness, the way he described it. That is, until someone pointed out she was a judge...then he clammed up. “I heard from my investigator Aleki, though, that to use pesticides correctly, you must follow all of the instructions precisely. Many Aldaran retainers gave up because crops didn’t seem to increase after a year. Only a few continue to use the pesticides.”
“Not to impugn Aleki,” Randal said, “but I’ve heard it’s more than that. While pesticides are hard to use, crop yield improved markedly in the second year. Some smallholders decided to use pesticides last year but didn’t use them the way they were supposed to. This could be part of the problem.”
“Then I’m going to have to send Aleki back out again, and hope he can get better information,” Fiona said as dread curled in her stomach. She knew the Terranan pesticides could be poisonous if used incorrectly. “So we may have polluted water, which may or may not have pesticide residue in it? And this residue may trigger miscarriages in chervines?”
Randal nodded.
“But what about the dying crops? I don’t understand...pesticides should not cause crops to die even when misused.”
“It’s not those crops that are dying,” Randal said. “For example, if someone’s growing corn and using a pesticide, it might be their wheat that dies. Or if someone’s growing rye, their sweet potato crop might suffer. It seems completely random, and if I were you, mestra, I’d get an agronomist to study the problem.” Randal didn’t stumble over the Terranan word.
“You mean, go directly to the Terranan and ask them to look into this?” Fiona felt uneasy, even though she’d already figured out she might have to do just that. If she went to the Terranan and was wrong about their involvement, the Courts of Arbitration would surely rake her over the embers for overstepping her authority. That would not be pleasant. Yet if she didn’t and there were widespread crop failures in the Hellers because of the Terranan pesticides, people would die when she might’ve been able to prevent it. She definitely couldn’t live with that. “Why should they help us?”
“If it’s their fault, they have to fix it,” Randal said.
Miralys brought Anibal in, and they conferred briefly with Fiona. Then Randal ushered the litigants back into the courtroom.
After the litigants had settled themselves again, Fiona said, “I’ve asked Anibal to give evidence regarding the water issue.” As Fiona questioned him, Anibal confirmed everything Donal and Randal had said, finishing with, “In the past fifteen years since the Terranan came, I’ve seen the percentage of spontaneous miscarriages go from perhaps twenty percent up to seventy percent. It’s a miracle any chervine carries to term, and horses—the few we get up here—are no better. As far as I’m concerned, that’s evidence enough the Terranan have damaged our land and should leave.”
“I’ve heard they’re building a spaceport at Thendara and probably will remove there in the next five to six years,” Fiona said. “Won’t that be far enough away?”
“It should be,” Anibal said. “I’m not a specialist in water, but since the problem didn’t happen overnight, it’s probably not going to be cured overnight, either.”
“Understood,” Fiona said quietly. “I appreciate your testimony in this matter, Anibal. You are dismissed but may be needed later, so hold yourself ready to return.”
He nodded, bowed formally from the waist, and walked out.
Before either litigant could speak, Fiona said, “This case presents unexpected difficulties. I need to check Anibal’s data from an independent source—” she hoped her investigator Aleki would be up for a challenge “—and I also intend to contact the Terranan before I rule.”
“Why?” Jessamyn asked.
“If their chemicals have damaged the water and are triggering miscarriages in chervines, including Dusty’s previous miscarriages, they must fix it.” And if crops truly are dying—one of the things I also intend to check, though it seems to have little bearing on this case—it is their responsibility to help us find out why.
“Let me assure you, Donal and Jessamyn, that I will get to the bottom of this matter as soon as I may.” She banged her gavel and said, “I’ll contact you with my decision once all the information has been gathered.”
Jessamyn nodded, but Donal scowled. “Who’s to raise the foal, then?” he asked. “And who’s to pay for its care in the meantime?”
“Both of you will pay for its care. But Darrell, who owns the barn, will supervise the raising of the foal, as he has for how many days now?”
“Ten, mestra,” Jessamyn supplied.
“You may both check with Darrell once a day until this matter is resolved, but you must abide by his decisions, or Anibal’s decisions if he’s consulted in the interim. Is that acceptable to you both?”
They agreed, then Randal ushered them out.
“A difficult case,” Miralys said. “There’s much to consider here.”
“That’s why I’ll have to get Aleki involved.”
“If anyone can get to the bottom of this, he can,” Miralys agreed.
“We don’t have time to survey the entirety of the Hellers,” Fiona said, thinking rapidly. “But Aleki has sources we don’t and should be able to help. Then, if we can get confirmation from the Terranan...”
~o0o~
“But you didn’t do things in that order,” the Chief Justice pointed out. “Why?”
“Vai dom, after court adjourned, two smallholders came to me privately as I dined in the tavern. Both said their crops were failing. They had used pesticides. But they didn’t think their crops had been properly pollinated, and they noticed far fewer bees about than normal.”
“Why was that significant?” Justice MacAnndra asked.
“Without bees, crops cannot be pollinated very easily,” Fiona stated. “It is possible to pollinate some crops by hand. There are some crops that can even be pollinated by a beetle that lives near the Dry Towns. But the easiest way is for bees to pollinate crops.”
“These smallholders—freeholders, I suppose?” MacAnndra asked.
“Yes, vai dom,” Fiona said. “They told me even on the great estates, such as Ardais, nothing was growing the way it should. That’s why I had to go to the Terranan before Aleki returned with his report.”
The Chief Justice looked at her somberly. “And you did this...why?”
“Vai dom, I’ve seen starvation once.” Fiona swallowed hard. “I never wish to see it again.”
“Commendable,” the Chief Justice said, “though it would’ve been better had you waited for this Court’s judgment.”
This was tricky. “Vai dom, I was worried that a message would not reach this court in time to alleviate unnecessary suffering, even if the weather stayed clement. No leronis was available of sufficient strength to send a more urgent message, and I was unable to get the Terranan to send a message, so I sent a written message via chervine—”
“We received it, six weeks after the fact,” the Chief Justice interrupted. “That’s when we sent a message, via the Lady of Arilinn, empowering you to act on your own best judgment.”
Fiona, even now, felt warmed by this. “Thank you, vai dom. I appreciate the Court’s trust.”
She regathered her thoughts. “As to why I knew it was likely I would have to approach the Terranan? Now I knew there was something wrong with the crops—possibly due to pesticides—and the bees. This was beyond my knowledge.”
“Quite sensible,” Justice MacAnndra said.
“Also, as I’m the justice who has had the most dealings with the Terranan, it seemed logical for me to be the one to discuss these problems with them. At least I was able to get the Terranan to send you someone who could explain what was going on, once we knew—”
“She called herself a scientist,” MacAnndra said.
“I thought it was an ‘agronomist’?” the Chief Justice asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar Terranan word. “Someone who studies farming in detail?”
Fiona nodded.
“What did she find?”
“I can’t sum it up quickly, I’m afraid,” she apologized.
“Just do your best, mestra,” the Chief Justice advised.
“It began this way....”
~o0o~
The scientist in question was named Vida Allgood, according to the nameplate on the door. As Fiona and Randal were ushered into the spartan white meeting room and sat down at a rather low table made of something called ‘plastic,’ Fiona pondered the letters after Allgood’s name—MS, DAgro, and so forth. The Terranan must put much faith in Allgood’s abilities.
“You’re the judge?” a tall, buxom brunette asked in passable cahuenga, giving her a sidelong look that could’ve meant anything.
“Yes, I am so honored,” Fiona said. “I need your help—rather, my people do.”
“What does a judge—especially a Darkovan judge—want with our science?”
“The case in question deals with a dead chervine—” Fiona began. “Do you know what a chervine is?”
“Horse analogue,” Vida remarked. “You ride it and it carries burdens, just like a horse.”
“Yes.” Fiona gathered her thoughts. How could she explain any of this, especially across the language barrier? “According to our best veterinarians, chervines have been miscarrying at a rate of seventy percent in the Hellers.”
Vida whistled. “That’s high.”
Fiona nodded. “It’s only been since the Terranan arrived, which points to some change in our farming. I’ve heard from several reliable sources that many crops have been lost, untimely, for no reason we’re able to discern.”
Allgood asked a number of rapid-fire questions, while Fiona did her best to answer calmly. Then Fiona said, “Crops are withering in the fields, and all we know so far is the water may be polluted from your pesticides and the bees may not be pollinating the crops, either.”
“Still, why are you here, rather than one of the farmers? You’re a judge. What about your aristocrats?”
“The Hali’imyn—the ‘aristocrats,’” Fiona stumbled over the Terranan word, “—are often more concerned with themselves than with the common people. While I’ve asked for guidance from Lorill Hastur himself, it will take months for my request to reach him. Many people will die between now and then if I do not act.” She decided she would not even attempt to explain the Courts of Arbitration, much less how she’d have to answer to them.
“Yet you’re not what I expected.” Vida exhaled, long and gustily, before she went on. “Darkover is male-dominated, and supposedly has only two women of any authority in what passes for its government.”
“I’m a special case,” Fiona said. She wished she could tell Vida about the Order of Renunciates, but the law was clear: Fiona could not give out any information unless Vida asked directly for it. And then, Fiona could tell of only the restrictions the Renunciates must deal with, rather than the benefits.
“Why?”
“My father, Dominic, was a judge. He had no apprentices, except me. My mother realized early that I had a gift for the law, and had no objections to me studying it.” This was all the truth Fiona was allowed to give.
“Well, if there’s one woman like you, maybe there might be more in the future.” Allgood nodded firmly. “All right. I’ll help you. What do you need?”
“Can you get one of your flying machines to look at several places?”
~o0o~
“The scientist then did what, mestra?” Justice MacAnndra asked.
“She looked at the maps, then commissioned a Terranan flying machine to overfly the blight. She told me afterward it was a horror; she even made infrared photographs—” Fiona made sure to pronounce the Terranan words very carefully “—which I have right here if you would like to see them, that showed the extent of the damage.”
The Chief Justice waved this off. “Not right now, thank you.”
“But why did this all happen, mestra?” asked the learned, balding, bespectacled Justice Doevid, a nedestro son of the Syrtis clan.
“As Randal and I feared, the pesticides had been used incorrectly, vai dom,” Fiona said. “Our people, even the Aldarans who were closest to the Terranan from the beginning of their arrival here, didn’t truly understand what they were supposed to do.”
“I’d like to hear more about the bees,” Chief Justice di Asturien said. “Why did they die off?”
“I’ll explain, vai dom, as best I can—” Fiona started.
~o0o~
“You have no doubts?” Fiona asked her longtime friend and investigator quietly across mugs of ale in a secluded corner of the Starmaker’s Tavern.
Aleki’s blue eyes were grave. “Everything I saw confirms what the Terranan scientist told you, mestra Fiona. The crops wither in the fields. Our rye crop, in particular, will be badly stunted, and people will starve; worse yet, there won’t be enough seed from that crop to use in planting next year, especially if farmers didn’t lay more than the usual amount of seed aside.”
“They probably didn’t,” Fiona said thoughtfully. “Because why would they do such a thing?”
“If they had any of the Aldaran laran, they might have foreseen this,” Aleki muttered. “They’re the ones who can see through time.” Like most without laran, the entire subject had always made him nervous.
Fiona searched his familiar face. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
“Yes, mestra. There is.”
“What, then?” Fiona stifled her impatience. People would die, and quickly, if she did not act. “What must I know?”
“The bees, mestra.” Aleki suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed something nasty. “They’re dying. They’re all dying, higher in the Hellers where many pesticides have been used. And that’s one reason why the crops aren’t flourishing—”
“Because they’re not getting pollinated in the first place.” Fiona finished. Fiona’s mother had been a beekeeper, so she knew how important bees were.
Now it was all starting to make sense. “Can you give me hard evidence that the bees are dying?” she asked. “I might be able to get the Terranan scientist to confirm—and if she can, maybe she can somehow help reverse this.”
Aleki snorted. “I’ve never known the Terranan to be good for anything, except causing trouble.”
“Even so.” She smiled, even though she’d rather kick him. She needed this information and his good will. Otherwise, she’d have to find a leronis and confirm it that way, which meant money and other resources not immediately to hand. “They say they will help, so I’m taking them at their word.”
Aleki pulled out two documents and laid them before her. “Old MacAran gave me his story. He’s lost most of his hives. Few bees survived, only a couple of queens, including one that is not laying eggs. Also, here’s what I saw on his farm, in detail.”
“He gave you this willingly?”
“I told him we were suspicious of the pesticides,” Aleki reported in a matter-of-fact tone. “He’s hoping to pry money from someone to replace his hives. They are desperate to have good hives wintering over.”
“If the Terranan can help, I’ll find a way to get the Lowlander Hali’imyn to share some of their hives, if it comes to that.” Presuming they haven’t been damaged yet, of course, she thought.
~o0o~
“He found the proof,” Justice MacAnndra said. “The bees were dying. The crops that were still good weren’t getting pollinated, which is why they were withering in the fields?”
“Partly, vai dom,” Fiona said, striving for accuracy. “Vida Allgood said the Terranan knew all about this phenomenon; they call it ‘colony collapse disorder,’ and it happens when pesticides are overused and the water gets fouled.”
“We’ve discussed this with Master Herbalist Rodolfo Lindir,” Justice Doevid put in. “He confirmed that this problem with bees has happened before, but only rarely, and only near the Dry Towns. Usually it’s happened when the water has been befouled with some sort of refuse that doesn’t break down properly.”
“The water near the Terranan base was also befouled?” asked Chief Justice di Asturien.
“Unfortunately, yes it was, vai dom,” Fiona said. Mestra Allgood had taken a reading on one of her Terranan machines and swore viciously in a tongue Fiona didn’t recognize. “The Terranan seem to believe the water overall has been damaged by pesticides, even in Caer Donn itself. Since they’re willing to help fix the problem, I didn’t argue.”
“Let’s get back to the start of this case,” said the Chief Justice. “What did you do about the chervine? And how did you manage to get all of the nobles to agree that the Terranan had to come in and fix whatever they could?”
“The second question is easier to explain, vai dom,” Fiona said. “I went to each of them, starting with the Aldarans, of course, and explained what had happened.” Fiona remembered Domna Rohana Ardais’s reaction, all right; she’d first been startled, but then gave Fiona a satisfied look that Fiona hadn’t been able to understand. “I told them their smallfolk would be desperate for food in the winter if the Hali’imyn did not allow the Terranan to come in and assess the damage, then mitigate whatever part of it they could. The Hali’imyn, of course, would not have to pay for this service.”
“That’s probably why—” Justice MacAnndra started.
The Chief Justice waved him off. “Continue, mestra.”
“What surprised me were the short growth cycle grains the Terranan had, including some that worked well in our rather snowy climate in the Hellers. Between those grains and the irrigation that was quickly instituted, especially in the Ardais Domain, many crops were either able to be replanted or salvaged, once new colonies of bees were brought in—quickly, and thankfully, from Lorill Hastur’s own estates.” She bowed from the waist. “Thank you for your intercession.”
“It was no trouble,” Chief Justice di Asturien said, speaking for the entirety of the Court. “Now, as for the chervine—what happened, good mestra?”
~o0o~
Fiona looked at the litigants, again gathered before her in the makeshift courtroom near Darrell’s barn. Anibal, Aleki, the Terranan scientist Vida Allgood, and a number of workers from both Darrell’s barn and the Starmaker’s Tavern were also present. “I’ve gone over all the information,” she stated. “Donal, you were right about the water; it had been poisoned, all unwittingly, by the Terranan. That poison has now been cleansed, and chervines should not miscarry at such an alarming rate any longer.”
She shuffled the papers before her, then looked at Jessamyn. “You bought Donal’s chervine Dusty, not knowing she was gravid. The bill of sale is in order, so your ownership of Dusty herself is also in order.”
Jessamyn looked triumphant until Fiona raised her hand. “I have not finished,” Fiona murmured. “The damage to the crops, which Donal pointed out during our prior hearing, has also been rectified. Because Donal is the one who let this court know about this particular problem, the Terranan have agreed to give Donal a rather large sum of money. I have the money right here.” She jingled a large, leather purse in her hand full of Terranan bits that would convert easily into Darkovan currency.
“What does this have to do with Dusty’s foal?” Donal asked.
“I’m getting to that,” Fiona said. “The bill of sale said nothing about Dusty’s foal. So the foal itself is currently not owned outright by either one of you.” Fiona knew this was a nifty bit of legal hairsplitting, but there it was: the foal had no owner. “My thought on the matter is this: Jessamyn, if you are willing to take half the money Donal was given by the Terranan, you would give up all rights to the foal. Donal, by paying Jessamyn to give up her rights to the foal, would buy full ownership of the foal. That allows Jessamyn to buy another mount, or six, so Jessamyn should not be discommoded. Is this agreement acceptable to you both?”
“I accept,” Donal said. “If Dusty’s good qualities bred true, her foal will be a truly fine animal.”
Randal passed him the legal contract and Donal signed, making an X as he was not literate.
“I also accept,” Jessamyn said. “I don’t know anything about raising a foal. I don’t want to stay here indefinitely, as my life, and Guildhouse, is down in Temora. But I have one condition before I sign my name.”
“Name it,” Fiona said.
“I wish to take only enough of the money to buy a good, reliable chervine and trail supplies; then I want to give the rest of the money to the Caer Donn Guildhouse.”
“You are free to do whatever you wish with your half of the money,” Fiona said. “But I believe that’s a wise decision.”
Randal brought Jessamyn the contract; Fiona watched as Jessamyn signed her name.
“Unless there’s any further business, court now stands adjourned.”
~o0o~
“So Donal gained the foal and the good will of the Terranan, not to mention some money as well, while Jessamyn gained the good will of Donal, the good will of the Terranan, and also some money?” the Chief Justice summarized.
“Yes, vai dom,” Fiona murmured respectfully.
Chief Justice di Asturien took a deep breath, and looked at his fellow justices. Each nodded in turn, MacAnndra being the last, before di Asturien turned again to Fiona. “Mestra, we justices stand at the crossroads of a truly interesting time. We need someone with your wisdom—not to mention your experiences with the Terranan—on this court.”
As hope rose within her, she heard the Chief Justice say with great relish, “We, the justices of the Courts of Arbitration, wish it formally known that we invite you, Fiona nikhya mic Gorsali, to become a member of this Court. Anyone who can get the nobles, the smallfolk, and the Terranan all to agree to something is worthy of becoming one of us.
“So, will you accept?” the Chief Justice asked. “Or would you rather stay in your current position in the Hellers?”
“I am honored, vai dom’yn, to join the Courts of Arbitration,” Fiona heard herself say. Of course I want it—I’ve wanted it all my life, she wanted to say, but had the wit to keep back.
The justices all rattled their walking sticks in approval.
Then, to her surprise, Miralys and Randal walked into the room. Miralys carried a cake, while Randal rolled in a cask of ale. As they started to sing the ancient songs of celebration, she wondered why they had named her to the Courts of Arbitration now. She was the same justice she had always been, and she’d been told in no uncertain terms three years ago by the Chief Justice himself that she’d never be promoted, all because she was a woman. Moreover, she was a Renunciate.
So why had they changed their minds?
Randal came up with two glasses of ale. She took one, feeling dazed. “I really didn’t expect this,” she murmured.
“My friend, the Hali’imyn wanted you here,” Randal said.
“What?” She could hardly believe her ears, but she was sure Randal was telling her the truth.
“The Terranan wanted you, too. Even the smallfolk—Zandru’s Hells, Fiona, they don’t care that you’re a woman, or a Renunciate, either. They care that you’re an excellent judge. And you did what none of them, not one, would’ve thought of. They are lucky to have you.”
Surprised by his vehemence, she blinked. Her actions had been the only logical course of action. “Do you truly think so?”
Randal laughed. “They will be talking about it in the streets of Thendara for months...maybe years. But when the Lowlanders forget why you’re here, the highlanders will remember. They know you’re one of their own. They’ve wanted a highlander judge on the Court for years now.”
“But—but Doevid studied at Nevarsin, and—”
“And he’s one of the Syrtis clan, even if his father hasn’t legitimized him.” Randal snorted. “While he knows some of the Hellers very well, Doevid is a scholar, Fiona. He’s really good at what he does. But he doesn’t understand people—not the way you do.”
Fiona felt both surprised and gratified. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed,” she admitted.
“The highlands know your worth,” Randal growled. “Never doubt it.”
Miralys abruptly came up and hugged her. “The Justices confirmed I’m to be the next Circuit Court Justice for the Hellers, and Caer Donn in particular,” she said happily. “I was so surprised!”
“Well, our apprentice Piet surely isn’t ready,” Fiona said dryly. “And you’ll do an excellent job, Miralys. Just...trust yourself, will you?”
“I promise you, I will.”
“So when will I have to take up my new duties?” she wondered aloud.
“Next week, domna,” the Chief Justice said. He’d materialized, seemingly out of nowhere, at her elbow. As she turned to him in surprise, he continued with, “I insist on the title. You’ve earned it.” Then, in a much lower tone of voice, he said, “You saved many of my cousins from certain starvation this winter, not to mention MacAnndra’s mother and stepfather and Doevid’s cristoforos. We are forever in your debt.”
Then, resuming his normal tone of voice, he said, “Now go and enjoy yourself. Please.”
Fiona resolved to do just that.
