Lawrence Watt-Evans - In the Empire of Shadow

“She’s got a right to her own home,” Amy protested. “It’d be stealing!”

“I don’t care about that,” Sawyer said, before Raven could say anything more, “but I might worry about her men getting back. She’s got a husband, at least, or there wouldn’t be that baby up there.”

Amy bit back a comment about the naivete implied by that comment; there wasn’t necessarily a husband anywhere-but there certainly might be one.

“We can handle a husband,” Wilkins said, “if it’s only one.”

“Aye,” Stoddard agreed, “an it’s but one; what, then, if that one brings friends?”

“Then we’ll take what we can carry,” Raven said. “I’ll not leave here without our due.”

Amy watched unhappily as the men of Faerie and the Galactic Empire picked through the contents of the kitchen alcove, but she did not protest further. It was stealing, no matter what ancient rights and privileges Raven might claim, stealing from a woman and her children-but Amy was hungry, very hungry, and the woman wasn’t arguing any more, and there were seven men doing the stealing, compared with two men, four women, and a few children who were not-and Amy was fairly sure that if it came down to open conflict, Susan and Prossie and perhaps even Pel would side with the thieves, while Ted would be useless to either faction.

Pel might be useless, as well, lost in his grief; he was still standing with eyes closed.

She stood and watched, and wished she could think of something to say to comfort the woman they were robbing, but nothing came.

She was sure that the woman would report their presence to Shadow, if she could-but then, she probably would have reported the presence of strangers even if they hadn’t robbed her.

And ten minutes later, when the entire party was moving again, across the valley toward the ruin where they were to meet Taillefer, Amy ate the raisins and dried apples and sticks of hard-baked bread that were her share of the booty without complaint.

She did not so much as glance back at the cottage, where the woman still stood in the open doorway, watching the thieves depart.

* * * *

They had finished their meal as they had started it, while walking. The intermediate stage, when they had settled briefly by the roadside to sort out their loot and prepare anything that required preparation, had lasted no more than fifteen minutes, at most, Pel was sure.

Of course, he had no way to check; digital watches didn’t work in either Faerie or Imperial space, and his was long gone, anyway. He relied on his own time sense, which he knew was not particularly good.

Still, he was sure that they were moving again less than half an hour after the robbery-despite Raven’s claims, Pel could not help thinking of the way they had acquired their meal as a strong-arm robbery.

He almost wished he had joined in, though, and taken a shirt. He hadn’t seen any, but there had probably been some, somewhere.

He hadn’t seen any, because he hadn’t wanted to look.

He tried very hard not to think of the girl under the table, not to associate her and her mother with Rachel and Nancy.

Maybe they would realize, when they thought about it, that Pel and the others hadn’t taken very much; maybe they wouldn’t hold the robbery against him. Maybe they would accept that it had been a necessity.

Robbery or not, it was done, and the party was well along the dirt track that Raven insisted on calling a highway, passing farms and fields on their way to the ridgetop ruin. This time the Earthman had not hung back; instead he walked in the front, with the three natives of Faerie.

“We don’t have any hereditary nobility with special privileges back home,” Pel remarked to Raven as they walked. “Not any more, anyway.”

The nobleman glanced at the Earthman, but did not break stride or comment.

“I’m not complaining, I was as hungry as anyone,” Pel continued, “but back home, taking that woman’s food would have been outright theft.”

“’Twas hospitality, not theft,” Raven snapped. “The custom is required by the Goddess who brought forth all life, and has naught to do with the patents of nobility.”

“Well, but it was because you’re a member of the nobility that you thought you were entitled, wasn’t it?”

“Nay, of course not; these lands are not mine, nor am I brought here to guest, nor are you my retinue, that I’d have the right to feed you.” Raven paused, then remarked, “’Tis clear that your homeland’s customs are not as our own, friend Pel-hospitality to travelers is a religious duty put upon us by the Goddess, and any who walk Her green earth are entitled, merely by virtue of being Her children, to the boon of a single meal from any who dwell upon the land and share in Her bounty. ’Tis this right and duty that I sought to claim, not some privilege due my gentle birth.”

“Oh,” Pel said, comprehension dawning. “It’s a sort of tithe, you mean?”

“Aye, a tithe indeed,” Raven agreed, nodding. “I’d not thought you had the word. A tithe and a duty, yet one that that woman sought to deny us, so debased has this realm become under Shadow’s rule! Yon wife placed her duties to Shadow above all common duties to the Goddess-a greater disgrace to Shadow I cannot imagine.”

Pel suspected this was hyperbole; he could think of a great many things worse than abandoning the customs of traditional religion. He decided against saying so, however.

He squinted at the sun as it descended steadily toward the ridgetop before them. The sky was reddening about it, the wisps of cloud were edged in golden fire-it promised to be a spectacular sunset.

There was nothing abnormal or threatening about it at all, nothing reflecting Shadow’s alleged presence.

The lands to either side were green with the lush growth of spring, save where fresh-tilled fields showed rich and black, clean-edged and tidy squares set in the landscape, as if to break the monotony of green. Pel could see men and women and even children working in the fields, here and there; although none were near enough for a good hard look at their faces, they all seemed to be going about their business cheerfully enough. He saw no whips, no tears; backs were bent with labor, but not, so far as he could see, with undue hardship. The people didn’t appear to be suffering any more than peasants anywhere might suffer, be it medieval Europe or some Third World country in Africa or South America.

Yet this land was under Shadow’s rule, had been under Shadow’s rule for centuries, and the Faerie folk spoke of Shadow as this hideous monster, this unspeakable evil. When Pel had first heard Raven’s story he had immediately associated Shadow with Tolkien’s Dark Lord, Sauron; with Donaldson’s Lord Foul; with Bakshi’s Blackwolf; with all the evil powers of fantasy films and novels.

By those standards, this land should have been a blasted wilderness, all ash and stone; the people should be crippled by floggings and torture; the skies should be black with unnatural clouds.

None of that fit.

Not for the first time, but far less idly than ever before, Pel wondered whether Shadow might be less a villain than it was a victim of bad press.

* * * *

Despite the meal, despite the prospect of rescue and a return to Earth that lay ahead, Amy found herself wearing out quickly. She struggled to continue, to keep up with the others, but she felt weak and sick.

At least, she thought, she was able to keep down the stolen food. She pushed on, placing one foot ahead of the others, but the mound of brush and vine-wrapped stone atop the ridge seemed to be taking forever to draw any nearer.

The sun was reddening in the west and the sky darkening, they were finally at the foot of the ridge itself, and Amy was on the verge of collapse when Pel dropped back from the main group, coming even with Amy and Prossie, who had fallen behind.