pony's head to take a left-hand fork and a right-hand turn after that. They reached a crossroads where a brewer's dray was unloading barrels into an inn's cellars. Wagons and carriages waited to pass by on the other side of the road. The pony snorted with a jingle of its brass harness ornaments.
Tathrin wasn't sure if anger or embarrassment coloured Eclan's angular cheekbones. "What's your father's trade?" he asked tentatively.
"Leather." Eclan flicked the cart whip idly at a wisp of straw blowing past. "He owns one of the biggest tanneries down by the lake. He shares business interests with harness-makers and shoemakers, glovers and such. The only time he ever left Vanam was to cross the lake to Wrede when my grandsire proposed a match with one of his trading partners' families. He had the pick of all their daughters and my mother suited him best. Happily they proved well matched." Eclan smiled with genuine affection for his parents.
"My older brothers will take over his interests here, so I've been set to learn all I can from Master Wyess about trading more widely." He snapped the braided lash over the pony's ears as a gap opened up ahead. "What does your father do, that he can spare the coin for you to study mathematics?"
"He's an innkeeper in Carluse," replied Tathrin.
Eclan jerked at the reins, surprised. "A tapster?"
"He owns a coaching inn on the Great West Road, just before Losand," Tathrin corrected him. "Merchants warehouse goods with us sometimes, for purchasers to collect. We help if they need to hire guards or trade horses. One of my sisters married a blacksmith who set up his forge there." And of course, there was the money-changing his father did in defiance of Duke Garnot's edict.
Eclan encouraged the pony into a brisker walk. "So there's plenty of coin to be made."
Tathrin shook his head. "I earned my board and lodging in the upper town as a servant for richer students."
That did surprise Eclan. "It was worth it? For a ring to seal your documents with the proof that you're a scholar?"
"It was," Tathrin said firmly.
His father would have paid ten times as much to see him safely away, after those dreadful days when Duke Moncan of Sharlac had sent his mercenaries into Carluse, carrying slaughter to the very walls of Losand. The carts had been loaded with all they could bear and Tathrin's family had made ready to flee, waiting for word of the battle's outcome. His father had paced the hall, spade in hand, ready to dig up the gold he had buried in the cellar.
Unable to stand not knowing, against all his father's wishes, Tathrin had saddled a horse and set out for Losand. Riding only as far as the nearest market town, he'd nearly blundered into a detachment of mercenaries who'd abandoned the main battle in search of easier prey. Seeing the slaughtered bodies of men and boys whom he'd known all his life, he'd realised how close he'd come to death through his own arrogant folly.
Not knowing might have been better than never forgetting. Tathrin looked down to see he was gripping his father's box of weights so tightly that his knuckles showed white beneath his skin.
"So why isn't Lescar as dull as Caladhria?" Eclan prompted as they turned uphill away from the lake.
Tathrin forced his thoughts back to ancient history. It might stop him recalling recent horrors. "You know the princes of Tormalin choose their Emperor from amongst their own number?"
"I've never understood that," Eclan said frankly.
"Tormalin's princes all rule vast holdings. Tens of thousands of men and women are sworn to each noble family. The yearly trade that any noble house controls could equal that of Vanam." Tathrin united the hills and buildings ahead with a sweep of his hand. "So any quarrel between two noble houses could soon turn into all-out warfare. They have the men and the coin to raise armies as quick as they like." He snapped his fingers.
"That's why the Princes' Convocation chooses an Emperor to preside over the law courts
Tathrin wasn't sure if anger or embarrassment coloured Eclan's angular cheekbones. "What's your father's trade?" he asked tentatively.
"Leather." Eclan flicked the cart whip idly at a wisp of straw blowing past. "He owns one of the biggest tanneries down by the lake. He shares business interests with harness-makers and shoemakers, glovers and such. The only time he ever left Vanam was to cross the lake to Wrede when my grandsire proposed a match with one of his trading partners' families. He had the pick of all their daughters and my mother suited him best. Happily they proved well matched." Eclan smiled with genuine affection for his parents.
"My older brothers will take over his interests here, so I've been set to learn all I can from Master Wyess about trading more widely." He snapped the braided lash over the pony's ears as a gap opened up ahead. "What does your father do, that he can spare the coin for you to study mathematics?"
"He's an innkeeper in Carluse," replied Tathrin.
Eclan jerked at the reins, surprised. "A tapster?"
"He owns a coaching inn on the Great West Road, just before Losand," Tathrin corrected him. "Merchants warehouse goods with us sometimes, for purchasers to collect. We help if they need to hire guards or trade horses. One of my sisters married a blacksmith who set up his forge there." And of course, there was the money-changing his father did in defiance of Duke Garnot's edict.
Eclan encouraged the pony into a brisker walk. "So there's plenty of coin to be made."
Tathrin shook his head. "I earned my board and lodging in the upper town as a servant for richer students."
That did surprise Eclan. "It was worth it? For a ring to seal your documents with the proof that you're a scholar?"
"It was," Tathrin said firmly.
His father would have paid ten times as much to see him safely away, after those dreadful days when Duke Moncan of Sharlac had sent his mercenaries into Carluse, carrying slaughter to the very walls of Losand. The carts had been loaded with all they could bear and Tathrin's family had made ready to flee, waiting for word of the battle's outcome. His father had paced the hall, spade in hand, ready to dig up the gold he had buried in the cellar.
Unable to stand not knowing, against all his father's wishes, Tathrin had saddled a horse and set out for Losand. Riding only as far as the nearest market town, he'd nearly blundered into a detachment of mercenaries who'd abandoned the main battle in search of easier prey. Seeing the slaughtered bodies of men and boys whom he'd known all his life, he'd realised how close he'd come to death through his own arrogant folly.
Not knowing might have been better than never forgetting. Tathrin looked down to see he was gripping his father's box of weights so tightly that his knuckles showed white beneath his skin.
"So why isn't Lescar as dull as Caladhria?" Eclan prompted as they turned uphill away from the lake.
Tathrin forced his thoughts back to ancient history. It might stop him recalling recent horrors. "You know the princes of Tormalin choose their Emperor from amongst their own number?"
"I've never understood that," Eclan said frankly.
"Tormalin's princes all rule vast holdings. Tens of thousands of men and women are sworn to each noble family. The yearly trade that any noble house controls could equal that of Vanam." Tathrin united the hills and buildings ahead with a sweep of his hand. "So any quarrel between two noble houses could soon turn into all-out warfare. They have the men and the coin to raise armies as quick as they like." He snapped his fingers.
"That's why the Princes' Convocation chooses an Emperor to preside over the law courts
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