Alterith smiled at the memory. So impressed had he been with Banny he had entered him for the school examination in arithmetic. The application was denied. Worse, Alterith was ordered to cease teaching beyond his brief. All lessons, apart from reading, writing and history, were cancelled forthwith. The problem did not end there, however. At the end of the winter term the headmaster, the elderly Dr Meldane, had attended one of Alterith's classes, sitting quietly at the back.
The lesson had been a triumph, a class full of attentive pupils, with one of them reading an essay aloud to the others at the close. It told the tale of Bendegit Bran, one of Bane's greatest generals. Alterith had been full of pride.
Two days later Dr Meldane had summoned Alterith to his plush office on the first floor of the school proper. He did not offer Alterith a seat. 'I am puzzled,' he said, 'as to why a competent teacher such as yourself should take it upon himself to alter known history. Perhaps you would explain.'
'I have altered nothing, sir,' Alterith told him. 'All of my teaching is based on known records of ancient events, as verified by the findings and research of the Journal of Varlish Studies.'
'Do not bandy words with me, sir,' snapped Dr Meldane. 'I listened to a nonsense essay with an underlying premise that the Keltoi were a great people, noble and just. You did not dispute this . . . this fabrication.'
'What was there to dispute, sir? Everything the boy said was true. King Bane did lead an army to defeat Stone at the height of its power. He did institute laws which were just. The people were happy under his rule. Where is the error?'
'Bane was the son of Connovar, a Varlish king. Therefore Bane himself was Varlish - at least in part. The Keltoi of themselves have never achieved anything of note. If they were noble and intelligent where was their empire? Where are their scientists and philosophers? The Keltoi are an inferior race, Shaddler. That is what is known.'
'Perhaps, sir,' said Alterith, 'it was their intelligence and nobility which prevented them from creating an empire. Perhaps they decided that butchering other races and stealing their lands was barbarous and inhuman.'
'This conversation is concluded,' said Dr Meldane. 'The experiment of teaching highland youngsters has proved a failure. The class will not resume after the winter break, and your services are hereby terminated.'
'Terminated? You are dismissing me?'
Meldane reddened. 'You were offered this position, Master Shaddler, because you were known to be sound. In short, a man who understood the glory that is the Varlish destiny. I overlooked your humble origins, and your lack of social graces. But you, sir, are a traitor to your race. I'll not have your like polluting my school. Be so kind as to remove yourself from my sight.'
That had been three weeks ago. Alterith's small store of daens had been used up now, and he had no coin for the rent, which was due tomorrow. He had tried to find employment as a clerk, but the word had gone out that he was 'suspect' and a 'Kilt lover'. No Varlish businessman would even give him the benefit of an interview.
The winter was proving a harsh one, and many of the roads south were blocked by snowdrifts. With no income, no savings and no work Alterith faced a bleak future. If he sold his books he might have enough money to buy passage to Baracum, but he knew no-one there. Life had been good this year, despite the departure in the spring of Gaise Macon to the capital, and the loss of income that had entailed. Now he was to pay for his happiness.
Discarding his blanket he put on his shoes, locked his door, and descended the three flights of stairs to the dining room. The other ten guests were already at table. They ignored Alterith as he took his place. He ate in silence, listening to the conversation. More talk of civil war in the south. The legendary cavalry general Luden Macks had been arrested for treason, but had been acquitted by the people's court. He had been rearrested on the orders of the king and tried by the Privy Council. He was due to hang within the month. There was also talk of unrest in the north. The Black Rigante had apparently murdered Colonel Linax, and the Moidart was mustering troops to move against them in the spring.
Alterith finished his meal, mopping up the last of his gravy with a piece of bread. The landlady, a sour-faced widow named Edla Orcombe, approached him as he left the table. She had always been polite, though never friendly. During the last few difficult weeks that politeness had worn thin. 'I have had enquiries regarding rooms, Mr Shaddler,' she said. 'Will you be keeping your room past this present month?'
'We will speak tomorrow, madam,' he said, aware that the other guests were listening.
'Indeed,' she told him. 'Oh, by the way, a young Kilt came by this afternoon to see you. Called at the front door, if you please. He left a note. It is upon the table in the hall.' Alterith thanked her and walked out into the corridor. The note was where Edla Orcombe had said it would be. It was wax-sealed, though the seal had been broken, the note obviously having been opened and read. Alterith swallowed his annoyance. Unfolding it he saw that it was signed in black ink by someone called Maev Ring. He had heard the name. The clanswoman had a small business making clothes. She was also, he seemed to recall, the mother of the troublesome Kaelin Ring. The note was short and to the point. It invited Alterith Shaddler to call upon Maev Ring the following day two hours before noon. Cursory directions were provided.
In normal circumstances Alterith would have sent back a note politely refusing the invitation. He was not comfortable in the presence of women. On this occasion, however, it gave him an opportunity to leave his lodgings for a day, avoiding the questioning of Edla Orcombe, and the embarrassment of admitting that his funds were gone.
He slept badly, the wind rattling the window, ice forming on the inside of the glass. The morning sky was dull and overcast, the temperature well below freezing. Alterith rose and dressed. He shivered as he did so, his hands blue with cold. He descended the stairs to the dining room. Breakfast was being served, and a fire was blazing in the hearth. Alterith poured himself a cup of hot tisane and sat by the fire. It would take him almost an hour to walk to Maev Ring's home. His teeth would be chattering by the time he reached it.
Edla Orcombe moved into the dining room, heading past the tables, her small eyes fixed on Alterith. His heart sank. 'Good morning to you, Mr Shaddler.'
'And to you, Mrs Orcombe.'
'Will you be requiring dinner this evening?'
'I will, Mrs Orcombe.'
'We need to discuss certain matters then, for I run no charity here.'
Normally Alterith Shaddler found himself nervous in the company of women, and experienced great difficulty in focusing his thoughts. But something snapped in him now. 'Indeed not, madam,' he said. 'In fact you are as renowned for your lack of charity as you are for the squalor of your property.'
Her jaw dropped. 'How dare you?'
Alterith stood. 'I would continue this conversation, madam, save for the fact that it is both boring and annoying. Please have my bags packed. I shall be quitting this pestilential place upon my return.' Sweeping past her he returned to his room, wrapped a heavy scarf around his neck, put on his frayed topcoat, and left the house.
It was bitterly cold outside, and he slipped and slithered on the icy street.
He had been'walking for around twenty minutes when a pony and open-topped trap came into sight. It was being driven by Banny Achbain. He waved at Alterith and drew on the reins. 'I have been sent for you, sir,' he said. 'There are blankets by the seat.'
Gratefully Alterith opened the side door and climbed in. He was too cold to make conversation and wrapped one blanket around his shoulders, another over his thin thighs. When he had thawed out a little he called out to Banny, 'Do you know why Mrs Ring wishes to see me?'
'No, sir.'
'What is she like?'
'Frightening,' replied the boy.
Time was running out for Maev Ring. Already there were whispers in Eldacre about the highland woman and her burgeoning wealth. She heard them through her workers, and from warnings offered by two of her oldest
partners, Gillam Pearce and Parsis Feld. It would not be long before the Moidart's cruel eyes turned towards her. Perhaps a month, perhaps a year. It would be so much simpler to be poor, she thought. Yet everything she touched turned to profit, and with no opportunity to spend her wealth on extravagant homes or jewels she continued to invest in businesses, both large and small.
Last night she had a dream. She was riding upon the back of a huge and terrifying bear. At any moment it could throw her off and devour her, so she fed it honey cakes to keep it friendly. The honey cakes made it grow. And soon it was big as a house, its claws like sabres. She could not get off, for the fall would kill her, and she was running out of honey cakes.
Shula Achbain was preparing breakfast for Jaim. She could hear them chatting amiably in the kitchen. Shula was normally shy and stuttering in company, but Grymauch had won her over, and she teased him, making him laugh. Maev liked to hear Jaim laugh. It was a sound full of life. He had just returned from a trip to the north, and the news he brought back was worrying. The colonel of the beetlebacks had been killed, supposedly during a meeting with the Rigante leader, Call Jace. Jaim had told her that Jace knew nothing about the killing. The new colonel was a former captain named Ranaud. He was known to be a Kilt hater.
Kaelin, however, was doing well at Ironlatch. He was in love with Call Jace's daughter Chara, and, if all went well, they planned to marry on Kaelin's seventeenth birthday next year. Time is flying by, thought Maev, moving to a mirror on the tall cabinet. There was more grey in her red hair now, and a deepening of the tiny lines around her eyes. 'You are getting old,' she said aloud.
'Aye, but still the most beautiful woman in the highlands,' said Jaim Grymauch.
'You shouldn't sneak up on people,' she snapped. 'A big man like you has no business moving so silently. What do you want?'
He grinned at her. 'Nice to see you blush, Maev,' he said.
'You are an irritating man, Grymauch, and I don't know why I keep you around.'
'Old White-Wig is here. He looks like an icicle.'
Then go and make him welcome. Offer him breakfast.'
'They say he's broke and ruined,' said Grymauch.
‘I have heard that. Now go and greet him.'
Jaim chuckled and shook his head, but he obeyed her. As he always did. Maev sat down in a wide chair, gathering her thoughts. Then she listened as the former schoolteacher entered the kitchen.
'This is Shula,' he heard Jaim say. 'Best cook in the highlands, and a beauty to boot. What will you have? Steak and eggs, hot oats, fresh bread and cheese?'
'Just a little water, if you please.'
'By the Sacrifice, man, there's not an ounce of flesh on you. You need to eat. It'll drive the cold out faster. Shula, fry a little bacon and egg for our guest, and cut some of that bread.'
'I don't want to be a burden,' said Alterith. 'Perhaps you could let Mrs Ring know that I am here.'
'She knows, sir teacher, and she's told us to feed you. So sit yourself down.'
'Do I know you, sir?'
'I am Jaim Grymauch.'
'Ah. I do believe I have heard the name.'
'Most people have. I am renowned for my many good works. Some tell me that when I die I shall be named among the saints.'
'Yes, indeed,' Maev heard Alterith reply. She smiled. She could hear the nervousness in the Varlish teacher's voice.
'How do you like your eggs, sir?' she heard Shula ask.
'With the yolk firm, madam, thank you,' replied Alterith.
'My nephew Kaelin asked to be remembered to you,' said Jaim.
'Did he? I doubt he recalls me fondly. I had occasion to discipline him many times. The last time, however, still causes me grief.'
'Why so, sir teacher?'
'He argued about the nationality of King Connavar and I caned him for it. I have since discovered he was quite right to argue, for he was correct. Connavar was undoubtedly a full Rigante.'
'It takes a man to admit when he is wrong,' said Jaim, and Maev heard a grudging respect in his voice. 'I shall tell Kaelin what you said, when next I see him. Ah, Banny boy, come in and fill your belly.'
Maev heard a chair leg scrape upon the floor. 'So, boy, how many is twenty-five times twenty-seven?'
'Six hundred and seventy-five,' said Banny instantly.
'You made that up,' said Jaim, with a laugh. 'That was too quick.'
'Because it was too easy, Grymauch,' answered Banny.
'No-one can do a sum that quick, isn't that right, schoolteacher?'
'Banny is correct,' said Alterith. 'He has a wonderful mind for numbers.'
Maev heard plates being laid on the table, and conversation ceased as they ate. She guessed that Jaim was also tucking in to a second breakfast. Rising from her chair, she added coals to the fire. The conversation had taught her more about Alterith Shaddler, and she liked what she had heard. The man was more open-minded than she had expected, and obviously had affection for Banny. Added to this she sensed that Grymauch also liked him, and despite the big man's many faults he was a good judge of character.
The breakfast concluded, Jaim returned to the room. 'Are you ready to see your guest yet?'
'Yes. Show him in.'
Alterith Shaddler was ushered in and Jaim left quietly, pulling shut the door behind him. The teacher wore no wig. His hair was cut short, and thinning at the temples. He was stick thin, his clothes almost threadbare.
'Thank you for coming at such short notice,' said Maev. Alterith bowed and said nothing. 'I have a proposition for you. Please take a seat.' Alterith settled himself on the edge of a nearby chair. He was monstrously ill at ease. 'I want to open a school for clan youngsters,' said Maev Ring.
'A school, madam?'
'Aye. I have a building I believe would be suitable, and I have ordered fifty desks and chairs. Now I need a teacher to run it.'
'A clan school? I fear that the authorities will not allow it.'
'They cannot prevent it. The king proclaimed five years ago that highland youngsters were to receive schooling. Dr Meldane can do nothing to prevent such a school.'
'I was not thinking merely of Dr Meldane. The civil authorities will present objections.'
'The Moidart is a loyal follower of the king, and all lessons will begin with the prayer for his health. I understand that was the policy in your own classroom?'
'Indeed so, madam. Yet I fear there will be many difficulties.'
'I will tackle each as it arises.'
'What of text books and writing implements?' he asked.
'The man who runs the school will have a budget to purchase such items as are necessary.'
'What will be taught?'
'Initially? Reading and writing, arithmetic, and history. After that we shall see how the project fares.'
An uneasy silence developed. Alterith stared at the floor. Maev watched him closely, sensing his disquiet. Alterith Shaddler, she surmised, was conservative by nature. There was nothing rebellions in the man. From everything Kaelin had told her of him he was proud of his Varlish heritage. The thought of being considered a Kilt lover would probably appal him. Maev felt a touch of anger, but kept her face expressionless. Perhaps it had been a mistake to invite this skinny Varlish to her home. Then Alterith spoke: 'Firstly, madam, I must raise the matter of salary. My funds are . . . my funds are gone. I am living in lodgings and have no money for rent. From today I also have nowhere to live.'
'I have furnished two rooms above the classroom, Master Shaddler. There is a bedroom and a study. I shall pay you five chaillings a month, and you will have a budget of three pounds a year to purchase books and any items you deem fit. How much rent do you owe?'
'One chailling three daens.'
'I shall give you the first month's salary in advance. You may take with you today five chaillings to settle your debts.'
He took a deep breath, then looked into her eyes. 'I appreciate this offer, madam. I have to say, however, that I will brook no interference in the wa
y I teach my classes, nor the methods I use. I will teach both clan and Varlish history. If that is acceptable then I will willingly - even gladly - take on this role. If not then I must decline.'
Maev nodded and gave a small smile. 'I appreciate a man who stands by his principles in the face of disaster. You will run the school the way you see fit. I shall not interfere. If it is successful we will talk of hiring another teacher to help you in your duties. There will also be a housekeeper to clean your rooms and a cook to prepare meals.'
'Then I accept, madam, with grateful thanks.'
'Good. Banny will take you back to your lodgings. You may collect your belongings and he will then drive you to your new home. Please prepare a list of items you will need, and we will meet next week to discuss them.' Alterith rose, but he did not leave. 'Was there something else, Master Shaddler?'
'Why have you asked me to undertake this role, madam? My dealings with your nephew were hardly conducive to such trust.'
'There are many reasons, Master Shaddler, but the only one which counts is that I believe you will excel in the role.' Stepping forward she handed him a small pouch. 'Here is your first month's salary. And now you will find Banny waiting to take you to your lodgings.'
Apothecary Ramus disliked travelling to the poorer quarters of Eldacre. In the heat of summer the narrow streets stank of refuse, piling up against the walls, and he feared the beggars, hard-eyed men and women who would likely cut a man's throat for a copper daen. In winter there was less stench, though half-starved dogs roamed the streets, occasionally attacking travellers. The decaying houses were set close, people living in cramped quarters, huddling together against the cold. The poor of Eldacre were miserable indeed: thieves, cut-throats, beggars and whores. Received wisdom was that these people were lazy and shiftless, and therefore predisposed to crime. Ramus often wondered about the veracity of such claims. Was it surprising that the starving stole bread? Or that a man weighed down by failure would become bitter at the success of others? Every week there were hangings in Eldacre, as thieves were dragged to the scaffold. Yet there was no shortage of crime thereafter. Would laziness alone cause a man to risk the rope?