Lawrence Watt-Evans - Taking Flight

They stood and waited as the man rode up.

“What do you want?” Kelder called in Trader’s Tongue, in an angry attempt at bravado.

“To give you an apology, and a warning,” the horseman replied, in the same language.

Irith and Kelder glanced at each other, and then back at the horseman. “Go on,” Kelder said.

The horseman bobbed his head in acknowledgement. “First,” he said, “the apology. If you are no more than the innocent travelers you appear to be, then we regret our actions toward you.”

He paused, but neither Irith nor Kelder answered.

“And the warning,” the horseman said. “There are bandits in these hills…”

“We know that,” Irith interrupted. “That’s why we wanted to join your caravan!”

The stranger nodded, and continued, unperturbed. “There are bandits in these hills, and they have been known to use several tricks and ruses. Accordingly, we cannot trust anyone we meet here-and most particularly, not a person like yourself, who clearly has great magic at her command. So while we mean no harm to anyone, if you approach again the guards will do their best to kill you.”

“Kill me?” Irith squeaked. “But I’m Irith the Flyer! Everyone on the Great Highway knows me! And this is Kelder, and he’s harmless!”

The horseman shrugged, palm up. “Perhaps you are what you say,” he said, “but we will not risk it. I’m sorry.”

Before Irith could say anything more, he turned and snapped the reins, sending his horse cantering back toward the departing wagons.

Irith blinked, then turned to Kelder, furious.

“They can’t treat us like that!” she said.

Kelder shrugged. “Why not?” he asked. Almost immediately, however, he regretted the words-a reaction like that was not going to impress anyone. He didn’t want Irith to consider him a coward.

“They don’t own the highway!” Irith shouted. “We can pass them if we like!”

Kelder reluctantly shook his head-appearances or no, and even if it meant an accusation of cowardice, common sense was on the side of caution. “It’s not right,” he said, “nor fair, but I wouldn’t try it. There are an awful lot of them.”

Irith looked at the wagons for a moment, considering, and then stuck out her tongue. “Who needs them, anyway?” she said. “And did you notice that weird smell?”

“What smell?” Kelder asked, startled. The only odors he had detected were those of dust and horses.

“That sour smell,” Irith said. “When the horseman rode up just now. The whole caravan smells like that. Didn’t you notice?”

“I didn’t smell anything,” Kelder said, puzzled. “Except horse,” he added, for the sake of accuracy, “and maybe sweaty leather.”

“Well, then your nose doesn’t work,” Irith retorted, “because the whole caravan stinks.”

“I didn’t smell anything,” Kelder repeated.

Irith considered for a moment, then announced, “They stink, anyway. Who needs them?”

Relieved, Kelder smiled, and she smiled back, and the two of them walked on, following the caravan at a safe distance of roughly two hundred yards.

“How is it there are so many bandits in Angarossa?” Kelder asked, as they trudged onward. They had been following the caravan for hours; it was still ahead of them, and in fact moving a little more slowly than they ordinarily did, but leaving the highway to pass it did not strike the pair as worth the effort. Instead, they had slowed down, giving Kelder more time to think. “Why here, and not other kingdoms?”

“Because of King Caren, silly,” Irith replied.

Kelder blinked. “Who?” he asked.

“King Caren,” Irith repeated. “The king of Angarossa.”

“Oh,” Kelder said, trying to see if he was missing some obvious explanation. He didn’t see that he was. “What does he have to do with it?” he asked. “Is he a bad king, or something?”

“Not as far as the bandits are concerned,” Irith said with a grin.

“I mean,” Kelder said, slightly annoyed at the girl’s attitude, “is he particularly bad at running the country?”

“And I mean,” Irith replied, still grinning mockingly, “that it depends on whether you look at it from the point of view of a caravan master or a bandit.”

“You’re the one being silly, then,” Kelder retorted. “It’s part of a king’s duties to stop banditry.” He might not know as much of the World as Irith did, but he knew that much.

“Well, in that case,” Irith answered, turning more or less serious, “King Caren’s an absolutely rotten king, because he doesn’t see it that way.”

“He doesn’t?” Kelder said, startled.

“No, he doesn’t. As long as the bandits pay their taxes, King Caren doesn’t bother them.”

“Taxes?” This conversation was, in Kelder’s opinion, becoming very strange indeed. He wondered if Irith were teasing him somehow, but that didn’t seem likely. He didn’t think she could lie that well. “Do bandits pay taxes?” he asked.

“In Angarossa, they do,” Irith explained, “if they don’t want the king’s men to hunt them down and kill them.”

“They pay taxes?” The concept still didn’t seem to make sense.

“One-eighth of everything they steal,” Irith assured him.

“But…” He groped for an intelligent response, and found none.

“Pretty rotten, isn’t it?” Irith said, with a grin.

“It’s … it’s…” It was plain that there were wonders in the World that had nothing to do with mysteries or magic, and were nothing he’d care to brag about seeing when he got home. He struggled for something to say.

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Irith said, smiling.

Kelder stopped trying to find words to express his appalled amazement, and Irith explained.

“King Caren’s greedy,” she said. “I guess most kings are. Anyway, when he came to the throne, the kingdom was broke, so he tried to raise money. Angarossa hasn’t got a lot going for it-it’s not good farmland, the weather’s pretty bad, there’s nothing worth mining, and the army didn’t amount to much. About the only thing in the kingdom that’s worth anything is the Great Highway, so King Caren tried to impose tolls.”

Kelder needed a moment to remember the word “toll,” but did eventually figure it out. “That makes sense,” he admitted.

“Yes,” Irith agreed, “but only if people pay the tolls. The merchants wouldn’t pay. They all traveled in big caravans, like the one up ahead, and when two or three guards tried to stop them at the border and collect a toll, the merchants would just laugh and march right on past, and if the soldiers tried to stop them, the caravan’s own guards would beat the toll collectors to pulp. So King Caren threatened to march his entire army out to the highway to collect the tolls.”

“What happened?”

“The merchants sent a delegation to Castle Angarossa to negotiate, and told King Caren that they’d never paid any tolls here before and didn’t want to now, and they didn’t pay any tolls in Yondra or Amramion or Sinodita, and why couldn’t he make his money by taxing the innkeepers and farmers, like everybody else? And besides, at the time there was this bandit named Telar the Red who was causing trouble, and the merchants said that if they had to pay to use the highway, at the very least the king ought to make it safer to use, and get rid of Telar.”

The story was not particularly fascinating, but watching Irith was, and listening to her voice was, as well. Kelder nodded encouragement, and Irith continued.

“So King Caren got an agreement from the merchants that if he captured or killed Telar the Red, and got rid of his bandits, then the merchants would pay a toll, a small one. And he sent out his army, and they tracked down Telar and caught him-and Telar offered them money to let him go again.”