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“I suppose there may be a bit more to it this time,” she conceded with a slightly grudging air. “Trisu of Lorham’s never been particularly fond of war maids in general. His father, Lord Darhal, wasn’t either, but at least the old man wasn’t as bad as his younger brother, Saeth. No one was as bad as Saeth Pickaxe, Milady! Talk about your bigoted, contemptuous, stupid—”
Yalith cut herself off and grimaced, then shook her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose and drew a deep breath, then exhaled.
“Forgive me, Dame Kaeritha. I wasn’t yet Mayor when Saeth was killed in a hunting accident, but I had my own personal run-in with him, and I wasn’t alone. He seemed torn between the belief that every one of us was an u
“But Lord Darhal was neither oversexed nor an idiot, and if he felt we were ’u
She grimaced again, less bitterly, and shook her head.
“When I’m not being totally exasperated with him, though, I doubt even Trisu could really be stupid enough to think that’s going to happen. Which means he’s making such an ass out of himself for some other reason. My own theory is that it’s simple frustration and immaturity. I’ve been hoping he’ll simply outgrow it.”
“With all due respect, Mayor Yalith,” Kaeritha kept her voice as level and uninflected as possible, “from his own reports—and complaints—to Baron Tellian, he seems to feel he has legitimate cause for his unhappiness with Kalatha.” She raised one hand in a pacifying gesture as Yalith’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not saying you’re wrong about his underlying hostility, because from the tone of his letters, you’re not. I’m only saying that he clearly believes he has legitimate grievances over and above the fact that he simply doesn’t like you very much.”
“I’m aware of that,” Yalith said a bit frostily. “I’ve heard about water rights and pasturage complaints from him until, quite frankly, I’m sick of it. Kalatha’s charter clearly gives us control of the river, since it passes through our territory upstream of his boundary with us. What we do with it at that point is up to us, not to him. And if he wants us to make a greater share of our water available to him, then he’s going to have to make some concessions to us, in return.”
Kaeritha nodded—in understanding, not agreement, although she wasn’t certain Yalith recognized the distinction. Given the quantity of water which had fallen out of the sky over the past several weeks, the thought that Kalatha and the most powerful of the local nobles were at dagger-drawing over the issue of water rights might have struck some as silly. Kaeritha, however, had been born in a peasant farming community. As a result, she was only too well aware of how desperately important such issues could become when soggy spring gave way to the hot, dry months of summer. On the other hand, it was entirely possible—even probable, she suspected—that the quarrel over water was only an outward manifestation of other, more deeply seated animosities.
“From his arguments to Tellian’s magistrates,” she said after a moment, “it seems evident Trisu doesn’t agree that your control of the river is as straightforward and unambiguous as you believe it is. Or that your interpretation of the boundaries set up by Lord Kellos’ grant are correct. Obviously, he’s going to put forward what he believes are his strongest arguments in that respect, since he’s trying to convince the courts to rule in his favor. I’m not saying he’s correct or that his arguments are valid—only that he appears to believe they are.”
Yalith snorted derisively, but she didn’t say anything, and Kaeritha continued.
“To be honest, at the moment I’m more interested in those return ’concessions’ to which you just referred. Trisu’s complained to Tellian that you war maids have been hostile and confrontational and rejected his best efforts to work out a peaceable compromise solution to his disputes with you. As far as I’m aware, he hasn’t gone into any specifics about just how you’ve been hostile and confrontational. Do you suppose that would have anything to do with the concessions you want from him?”
“Hostile and confrontational, is it?” Yalith glowered. “I’ll ’hostile and confrontational’ him! We’ve been as reasonable as we can be with such a pigheaded, greedy, stubborn, opinionated young idiot!”
Despite herself, Kaeritha found it difficult not to smile. Yalith’s evident anger made it a bit easier, since it was obvious her resentment of Trisu burned much deeper and hotter than she wanted to admit to Kaeritha … or possibly even to herself. At the same time, the knight could see how even a man considerably more reasonable than she suspected Trisu was might feel the war maids were just a trifle hostile toward him.
“I’m sure you have,” she said after a second or two, when she was confident she could control her own voice. “What I need to know before I move on to Lorham is exactly what concessions you’ve been seeking.”
“Nothing that earthshaking,” Yalith responded. “Or they shouldn’t be, anyway. We want a right-of-way across one of his pastures to a stud farm which was bequeathed to us by Lady Crowhammer six or seven years ago. We want a formal agreement on how the river’s water will be divided and distributed in dry seasons. We want a guarantee that our farm products—and farmers—will receive equal treatment in local markets from his factors and inspectors and from the market magistrates. And we want him to finally and formally accept the provisions of our charter and Lord Kellos’ land grant—all of their provisions.”
“I see.” Kaeritha sat back and considered what Yalith had just said. The first three points did, indeed, sound as if they were less than “earthshaking.” She was only too well aware of how simply and reasonably someone could describe her own viewpoint on an issue which was bitterly contested, yet she was inclined to think it must be the fourth point which lay at the heart of the war maids’ current confrontation with the Lord of Lorham.
“What specific provisions are in dispute?” she asked after a moment.
“Several.” Yalith grimaced. “King Gartha’s charter defines specific obligations to local lords from which war maids are to be exempted, and, to be fair, Trisu and his father and grandfather have generally accepted that. They’ve been less interested in enforcing the provisions which require those same local lords to grant war maid crafters and farmers equal protection and treatment in their markets.
“That’s bad enough, but it’s also been going on literally for generations, and we’ve managed to live with it all that time. But another serious dispute’s arisen in the last few years, concerning the water rights I spoke of and the integrity of the surrounding land which Lord Kellos originally granted to us. Lord Kellos’ grant defined specific boundaries and landmarks, obviously, but Trisu’s family—and, for that matter, some of the other local lords, although not to the same degree—have been encroaching upon those boundaries for years. In fact, Trisu’s father built a grist mill on what’s clearly our land, and Trisu has refused to acknowledge that Lord Darhal was in the wrong when he did. In fact, Trisu insists that he owns that land and always has, despite the fact that the original grant puts the boundary almost half a mile beyond the mill. That’s just one instance of the way in which our boundaries are being routinely violated.