Bastion

expressionless, but Mags sensed his irritation.
    “Is that all, Herald?” the Headman asked, starting to move toward the door himself.
    “I would be a poor Herald if it were,” Jakyr replied, with the unspoken and you know that very well, implied by the silence at the end of his sentence. He let that silence hang for a moment, waiting for the Headman to volunteer, and sighed when he did not. “I’ll be needing the records of your judgments for the last six months, if you please. We’ll be going over them together.”
    Well, I don’t please! the man’s thoughts shouted, but with a great sigh, he pulled a large book out of a satchel at his side, and sat down across from Jakyr and Mags.
    One by one, with his finger tracing under the words, the Headman read out the date of his judgment and what it was.
    “Dannel Brewer beat his wife. Fined four coppers.”
    “Why four?” Jakyr interrupted. “The law says eight.”
    “Foreby the bitch threw a stewpot at his head,” the Headman growled. “With the stew still in it.”
    “And why did she throw a stewpot at his head?” Jakyr persisted.
    “Foreby he came in drunk from reapin’.” The Headman said, exasperated.
    “Ah.” Jakyr nodded. “I’d have thrown a stewpot at his head, myself. A man can lose a foot, reaping drunk.”
    The Headman’s attitude lightened, an almost imperceptible bit. “Which is why I didno fine her. ’Twas a waste of good stew, but he got no dinner, and she refused to cook after he beat her, so I recked fourpence was enough on top of a empty belly.”
    “Have they learned better?” Jakyr asked.
    The Headman shrugged. “There’s no gettin’ drunk in that house afore dinner time and no more beatings.”
    Jakyr nodded. “Next?”
    They waded through judgment after judgment, until people began to file back into the inn, obviously wanting their beer and whatever they were accustomed to get with it. Jakyr stood up.
    “We’ll begin again tomorrow morning, Headman,” he said formally. “Thank you for your time.”
    With that, he headed for the door, with Mags following. It was already dark, and the innkeeper had lit the torch at the front door. They went around back, mounted up, and headed back to the Waystation.
    “Anything?” Jakyr asked, as soon as they were clear of the village.
    “Nothin’ important,” Mags replied. “We’re city folk with no call to be tellin’ them what t’do. They don’t like that the Guard’s gonna make sure they keep their boundaries straight. Headman thinks you got pride the size of a house, but you just might have a lick or two of sense.”
    “I’m flattered,” Jakyr said dryly. “At least they don’t want to poison our beer.”
    “It’s mostly they don’t like people outside of their own Lord tellin’ ’em what t’do, and they ain’t too fond of their own Lord doin’ it, neither,” Mags reported. “Guard was right. This’s gonna be a sticky Circuit.”
    “I don’t mind, so long as it gets no worse.” They rode in silence the rest of the way to the Waystation, with Mags pondering that in his mind.
    •   •   •
    In the morning, their session with the Headman over small beer and buttered bread was interrupted by a commotion from outside. Jakyr paid no attention to it, and the scattered bits of thought that Mags picked up told him that the commotion was due to the arrival of the others. He expected all four to come into the inn, but it was only Lita and Lena.
    The innkeeper greeted them with a lot more enthusiasm than he had Mags and Jakyr, and he and Lena engaged in a spirited bargaining session that nevertheless managed to be quiet enough that it didn’t interrupt Jakyr and the Headman. When they had struck a bargain to Lita’s liking, she and Lena left and came back again with an assortment of instruments. These, they set by the hearth, and the innkeeper fed them.
    The Headman’s heart was obviously no longer in defending his judgments like a badger defending his sett. He kept eying Lita and Lena as if trying to figure how good they were just from how they were eating their luncheon (which was much better than the one the innkeeper had offered Mags and Jakyr). And instead of making Jakyr pry out every little detail, he was offering it all in one go, almost blurting it out. Mags caught the corner of Jakyr’s mouth quirking a little. Whether she meant to or not, Lita was making their job much easier.
    The Headman heaved a great sigh of relief as they got to