It is closer to late afternoon rather than High Noon but Garia has the eerie feeling that she has ridden onto a set for a western movie as the caravan pulls into Blackstone. The actions of the locals don't help, either... something very nasty is going on! Abruptly they are forced into a confrontation that can only have one ending...

Disclaimer: The original characters and plot of this story are the property of the author. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. This story is copyright (c) 2011-2012 Penny Lane. All rights reserved.

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They were fresh sounds, forest sounds, and they brought Garia out of a deep sleep to listen. It was just after dawn, she estimated by the amount of light filtering through the canvas awning. Rubbing her eyes she slowly sat up, careful not to disturb Jenet sleeping next to her.

She frowned. The sounds weren't those of Earth, however much she wished them to be. Okay, wind through trees was much the same, as was the ever-present sound of water on stone. However, whatever perched in those trees and made those sounds had never flown through the skies of Earth.

Outside she heard the sound of the camp beginning to come to life. With more than twenty men it was never going to be possible to keep the noise right down. With a sigh she pushed the thin blanket back, ready to rise. The action disturbed Jenet, who opened her eyes.

"Another day has begun, Jenet."

"Uh. If you say so, milady." Jenet rubbed her eyes and her cheeks. "Is it time to rise? I am so used to the palace bells that I know not what time it is."

"I can hear some men stirring outside, so I guess it is. We can leave it a few minutes if you like." Garia considered the cool air. "Actually I think I'd like a warm drink inside me to wake me up properly before we head for that rock pool. What do you think?"

Jenet shuddered. "I had forgotten that pool, milady. The water will be quite cold this early in the day."

They made themselves tidy and emerged to find many of the men moving about, getting ready for breakfast. Sukhana gave them a cheery wave as she continued to stir a big pot of grain porridge.

"Morning. There's pel in that pot if you want some."

"Thanks. Are we expected to eat that? I just wanted a drink before we go and bathe."

"This isn't for us, milady. There are so many of us that I must feed half then start again. These great lumps will soon eat all this up, so I will join you in the pool before breaking my own fast, if you would wait."

"Of course. Anything we can do to help?"

"Bowls for the men, mugs as well of course. Oh, mugs for yourselves - and here is Milady Merizel."

Merizel joined them yawning and stretching. Garia observed her with interest.

"Merry. How did you sleep?"

"Surprisingly well, Garia. I think the noise of the water helped me go. Yourself?"

"I think you're right, I feel quite fresh. The noise of the avians is what woke me up."

"As you say."

"I've been thinking, watching you standing there. Do you think we could talk Jaxen into letting us do Tai Chi before we move off? It's been far too long since we last did it and I know some of the men miss it too."

"That's a good idea, Garia. It's time we got ourselves back to our usual routine."

Garia raised an eyebrow. "Including some morning training? That ought to provoke some interesting comments."

Merizel chuckled. "Perhaps not today. I'm sure we will once we get to Blackstone. What do you think we'll find?"

"I have absolutely no idea, Merry. I know Jaxen has some reservations so don't be surprised whatever happens."

Merizel chuckled again. "After living with you? It would be hard to find something that would surprise me more than anything you can do."

Once the first shift of men were fed the women went down to makeshift latrines at the bottom of the falls before returning as far as their 'private' pool. The water was cold, but not enough to make their dip unbearable. Sukhana and Merizel waited on the dry boulders while Garia was cleaned up, the flow of water taking away what the Call of Kalikan had left. Then, once the pool was clear again they all climbed in and bathed properly together.

They had brought their day clothes with them so that they reappeared in the camp fully dressed and ready for action. Action in this case was the second sitting for breakfast which included Jaxen, Keren and the two guildsmen. Garia gestured at the surrounding stonework with her spoon.

"What do you think of this place, Bezan? What could you make of it?"

"Difficult to say, milady, as we don't know what purpose it was originally made for. It must have been a solid structure when it was built. If it were nearer the road I could contrive a dwelling, there is enough space inside the walls for a courtyard. As it is," he shrugged, "it would make a very large building, were it to have an entire roof. Did you have a suggestion, milady? Not that anyone is ever likely to want to build anything here."

"You'd be surprised, Bezan. As a place to come and just rest I think this spot has great potential. A lodge, I guess. You can just enjoy the forest and the river. If you were feeling a little more active you could go fishing in the river or hunting in the forest. "

"I see what you mean, milady. But, we do not know whose land this is. It would be for the lord whose land this is to commission such a lodge."

"And," Garia mused, "what you aren't saying is that it would be the lord and his guests who enjoyed such a lodge, wouldn't it?"

"I think," Keren said, "that the owner is probably Uncle Gil - the Duke Gilbanar, I mean. I doubt he has ever been here or knows that such a structure as this exists. Garia, do they have such lodges on Earth?"

Garia thought. "In parts of the great continent I live on, there are wild areas similar to this place. Some of them have been given to the people as... communal parks, I guess you could say. That is, anyone has a right to come and wander about on those lands and enjoy the great outdoors. You can even hunt and fish there under certain conditions. Obviously you are supposed to take care of the lands and not hack down all the trees or leave rubbish but people generally do the right thing. On those parks are often lodges which are either run like the inns in town, with paying guests, or as small structures you either own or rent by the week."

"Interesting. Is it your thought that we should make such a park in this place?"

"That's for the future, I guess. The reason for the parks is more important, actually, it was to insure that part of the land was kept in the same state that man found it, instead of being gradually taken over and turned into farmland or new developments - uh, houses or towns or industry, I mean. The rules for building in those areas is quite strict. The idea was to make sure that something was left for future generations to appreciate."

"Instead of just being in histories and peoples' memories, I take it," Keren nodded.

"Your thinking is unusual, milady," Bezan said. "I approve of the sentiments, though. Sometimes in the urge to create the new we forget the old, which brought us to this place."

"As you say, Bezan," Keren agreed. He turned to Garia. "How much would you like? A mark each way, measured from the falls? Two marks? Five? And as far as the road?"

Garia stared at him. "You wouldn't, would you? Have you that authority? What will Duke Gilbanar say?"

"Oh, Uncle Gil will be okay with it, and yes, I can do that if you so wished it."

Garia was embarrassed. "I don't want to... perhaps once we're settled... Merizel?"

Merizel rolled her eyes. "Yes, milady. I will add it to the list."

The men helped to clear the camp away and then those who had become used to the discipline formed a square in one of the less-overgrown areas. The others watched with interest as Garia led them through the forms, noticing some lapses and some grimaces as stiff muscles responded to the activity. Once the exercise was finished everyone dispersed to collect their mounts, just as the dranakh reappeared from the forest.

"How do they do that?"

"Do what, Garia?" Merizel asked. "Oh, the dranakhs? I don't know. They've always done that, haven't they?"

"Perhaps I should have asked 'why?' instead of how. Never mind, Merry."

"Are you going to ride today?"

"Uh, no, I don't think so. After yesterday I think I'll keep myself out of mischief by sitting with Helen. Besides, I only have two pairs of breeches and I don't want to risk messing up the other pair. You'll ride, won't you?"

"Of course. My backside has now gotten used to being such a shape and I wouldn't want to put that to waste, would you? But... you're wearing your riding skirt."

"Yes. I deliberately decided to wear a circle skirt today to, um, let some air circulate, you know? It might also come in useful when we get to Blackstone."

Keren joined them. "Riding today, Garia?"

"No, I'll sit on a wagon today, Keren. It'll be safer that way."

"Ah." He smiled at her. "Perhaps that would be prudent, after yesterday."

Jaxen and Sukhana came to join their group.

"Highness, Your Ladyships, are we ready? We ought to depart."

"As you say, Jaxen. Let's get going."

The train pulled out of the enclosure and Jaxen let the dranakhs retrace their route back to the road, arriving just opposite the sawn branch. Turning left they resumed their journey along the road towards Blackstone. It was not long before they came across the 'official' camp site and could judge the state of disrepair for themselves.

"A bad business, milady," Helen said to Garia as the wagon rolled by. "There must be traffic along this road, and the wagons and other travelers must needs stop each night, where would they go? Do they hide in the forest as we did?"

"I don't have an answer for you, Helen," Garia replied. "This is all new to me so I don't know what they would do. Perhaps there is another site further along."

Further along was an 'unofficial' campsite, in Jaxen's words, which was simply a cleared area at the base of a rock formation near the road. There was no fresh water and no obvious latrine, but scorched ground showed that others had used the place despite the lack of facilities.

"Perhaps there is no money to repair these places," Garia suggested as they rolled past. "Who covers the cost of the camp sites, anyway? The local town? The landowner?"

"I always assumed it was the Duke, milady, him being the landowner round these parts. The main roads, such as the road from Dekarran to Tranidor, are maintained by the King within Palarand as a duty to all but I don't know about minor ways like this one."

That means that it might become my duty. Garia considered. This route will need to be upgraded once we begin shipping coal out, won't it? We'll need one at least as wide as the trade route we forked off. Oh, and upgraded rest stops, naturally.

Hmm. Need the road follow this line? We'd be going loaded and coming back mostly empty. Perhaps we can find a better grade? This route's a bit of a switchback.

Hmm. I wonder... perhaps a canal? How long is it going to be before I can put in a railroad between Blackstone and Tranidor?

Oh, God. I'm turning into a railroad baron!

"Would Jaxen know more about such matters, Helen?"

"Maybe, milady," the wagoneer replied cautiously. "But we use the roads, we are not builders of roads. What about that young guildsman of yours, Bezan? He might know more, especially since he's from Tranidor."

"You're right. I'll ask him once we reach Blackstone."

They found a clearing a little later on to pull over and brew pel. The forest seemed thinner here, the trees less robust as though they struggled through poorer soils. The sun broke through the canopy more frequently here even though most trees still retained all their leaves. The caravan pushed on.

As the morning ended the trees became more and more sparse and then ceased completely just as Jaxen was beginning to look for somewhere to stop for lunch. The landscape before them was a wide valley with a few stands of trees but mostly rough grass over which flocks of pakh grazed. Garia could see that the road now paralleled the river perhaps a bowshot away. Here and there were small cottages or huts, most with an enclosed kitchen garden on the north side to catch the sun. People could be seen in the distance, attending vegetables or flock, these stopped and watched as the caravan passed by.

Finally a widening of the road together with familiar buildings indicated the spot where travelers customarily stopped. The wagons circled and the dranakh were released. Much to everybody's surprise they didn't wander off but stood nearby watching the travelers. The women made for the comfort station as the men pulled out the tables and benches. Because of the odd behavior of the dranakh Jaxen posted a strong watch while the food was prepared.

Yarling approached Garia as they were eating.

"Milady, we are almost at Blackstone. Shall you now tell us what you seek? Surely it would be sensible, so that my colleague and I may begin our tasks?"

Garia leaned back and chewed reflectively.

"Very well, Yarling. Have a seat. Bezan, you too. Now, what can you tell me about coal?"

"Coal, milady? 'Tis worthless rubbish that causes us any amount of trouble when we find it underground. It generates a noxious air that is poisonous to breathe but may yet cause catastrophic falls. The stuff is weak, so that any tunnel through such a seam has to be shored every stride or so, lest it fall and bury us. Why, milady? Is there coal in the way of that we seek?"

"Yarling, it is coal that we seek. We are not here to find anything else."

"Milady, this is madness!" Yarling began to get heated. "Coal is useless! You have been told a wild tale, milady, if you think there is anything of worth within coal."

"It is the coal itself we want, Yarling. We are going to take away all that we can get out of the ground. We need that coal, rather the ironmasters need that coal, because it is the key to the mass production of steel and that will allow us to do many other things."

Yarling stared at Garia, complete incomprehension written on his face.

"Do you know," she asked him, "what coal is made of?"

"Made of, milady? Why should I? It is a rock like any other."

"It's not that simple, Yarling, and you know that. If it were a rock 'like any other', then all rocks would contain gold, silver and iron, wouldn't they? They don't, and that is because each kind of rock was made in a slightly different way, in a number of completely different processes many millions of years ago."

"Millions of years? Milady, this is..." Yarling stopped, suddenly conscious of who he was speaking to.

"Crazy talk?" Garia smiled at him. "Perhaps, from your point of view. But I do have some small knowledge of such things and it is that which lets me know that coal is going to be the most important thing that will ever come out of Blackstone."

"Milady, I must ask," Yarling said cautiously, "you claim knowledge of such matters, yet you are too young to have any knowledge of the miner's art. And you are also a woman, who is not permitted to join any guild, so how is this possible? Was your father perhaps a miner?"

Garia considered the best way to break it to Yarling.

"Where I came from, coal has been used for hundreds, thousands of years as a fuel. It was about three hundred years ago that the usefulness of coal for making steel was discovered. Coal has been around so long that everybody knows what it is and what it can be used for."

"A fuel? I don't understand."

"Remember those rumors we heard in Tranidor? About the stupid locals who burn rocks to keep warm? Those weren't rumors, they were the simple truth, disbelieved by people who had never seen a coal fire. Trust me, Yarling, hearing that rumor was just confirmation that this valley has coal and that's why we are going there."

Yarling stared at her and then nodded reluctantly.

"You said you knew what coal was, milady. How is it possible for a rock to burn?"

"I think we have time for this," she judged. "But I'll want a meeting with you two when we reach Blackstone and we find out just how much coal there is. I'm sure you can imagine that you were sent by the Guild Hall in Palarand because they want you," she pointed to Yarling, "to plan out how to extract it, and you," a gesture at Bezan, who had kept his mouth shut the whole time, "to work out a way to get it down the valley to Tranidor and possibly beyond. So, the composition of coal. Tell me, you know what a swamp is, don't you? Well, imagine a swamp which looks like this..."

~o~O~o~

They were definitely nearing the end of the journey. Ahead, the valley walls gradually neared and then swept together in a bowl-like configuration. All around them the ground sloped up in a curve which ended in cliffs high above. Very occasionally, narrow canyons cut into the valley, leading off into the surrounding mountains. Garia could see, easily, that the rocks high above were laid down in layers and that some of those layers were of the thick black rock which gave the area its name.

The road angled slowly away from the river, which was now little better than a wide stream, towards a jumble of buildings that just had to be Blackstone. Behind, a larger canyon than usual emptied into the valley, the way to the town crossing a stream from the canyon by means of a low stone bridge.

That must be Blackstone Vale. Oh, well, it's not much but it's all mine. And so are those mountains either side! Look at the thickness of those coal seams!

The caravan rattled over the stone bridge and Garia stared in amazement. Blackstone appeared to be a single street lined both sides with buildings of stone or wood and it looked very familiar.

I've wandered into a set for a spaghetti western! If it wasn't for the pitched roofs this could be anywhere in the Wild West. Where's Clint Eastwood, then?

The wooden buildings followed a pattern she was familiar with from the towns they had passed through. Mostly two stories, and with either a covered raised sidewalk or a covered balcony above the sidewalk, necessary because of the rainy season. The road was different than a western street would be, too, a surface of flat stones designed to drain the water rapidly away. There were occasional single-storey stone buildings but these too had raised covered sidewalks. She began reading the signs above each building as the wagon rolled past.

Tanner. Butcher. She frowned over a large, dilapidated building with a side arch which typically indicated an inn. It looked as if it hadn't been used for some time. The Ptuvil's Claw. Next to it another dilapidated building, this one a single storey stone building with no sign but a faded yellow flag on a short pole. Beside her, Helen stirred uneasily.

"I like this not, mistress," he muttered to her. "Where are the people? If visitors are so rare, they should all be out in the street welcoming us."

Garia looked around. There had been a few people walking the streets but when the first wagon made its noisy way over the bridge all had scuttled away out of sight. She had the impression that there were people still watching them, out of sight behind the doors, windows and shutters. The sense of being in a western movie intensified. Helen casually leaned back and made sure that the strap securing his crossbow was released. He twitched a brief grin at her.

"Best you act a little stupid, mistress."

Garia saw the point immediately. She hadn't expected anything particular when she arrived here but this was definitely unexpected. If there was trouble, she would be vulnerable, especially in her present state. She glanced forward to see Keren riding beside Jaxen, the two talking quietly. She wondered whether any sign had been noticed by them or the others in their party.

From an alley between two buildings on their right a man casually strolled out into the middle of the street, a crossbow negligently but expertly cradled in one arm. He stood in front of the caravan and they were forced to stop abruptly. Jaxen immediately rode forward to speak to the man but he gestured back behind, at a building to the right hand side. From this building three men strode out, two carrying crossbows who fanned out to cover the wagons. The third was dressed in a much better fashion and he stood there inspecting the wagons and men halted in the street. Above him, two further men came onto the balcony, also carrying crossbows. Jaxen rode to meet the better dressed man, who was obviously in charge.

"You! Are you in charge of this train?"

Jaxen dismounted and approached the man. He stopped short when the two either side of him raised their weapons.

"I am, sir. I am Jaxen, Senior Wagonmaster for Master Tanon of Palarand. What is the meaning of this?"

The man gave a depreciating smile. "We are disturbed when so many armed men come uninvited to our town. What is your business in Blackstone?"

"You shall ask those who hired us, master, whenever they arrive. I am just providing some transport. Who, might I ask, would you be, to threaten traveling folk with raised weapons?"

"I am Trogan, appointed Assessor of Taxes by the lord who holds these lands. It is my business to keep these people safe and I deem so many as you bring to be a danger to us. I ask again, what is your business with these people?"

"We are no threat to you or your people, sir. Do you not know it is necessary to travel with a heavy guard in such remote regions as these? As for our business, I am not fully informed but I believe that it involves mining. As I say, those who hired us may tell you more when they arrive."

The man looked frustrated but realized that Jaxen wasn't going to tell him any more. He tried another angle.

"Then tell me, wagonmaster, how long you think you might stay in this town? You are a large number, we will have to find provisions for so many."

"For some days we shall provide our own food, sir. If necessary we will buy further provisions, any that may be available. You should not worry that we would burden your town."

"So you bring your own provisions?" Trogan nodded thoughtfully. "Very well, we can bear your presence within the town for a short while - but I expect answers from your principal when he appears." He pointed up the street. "You may park your wagons yonder, there is flat ground beyond the buildings there."

"As you wish, Assessor Trogan."

"One more thing," Trogan added casually, as if remembering an oversight. "There is a toll for crossing the bridge, payable immediately. Let me see... a crown for each wagon, of course, and ten feniks per man." He smiled. "I shall not charge you for the women I see in your party." He scanned the wagons and riders. "About twenty men, call it another crown."

Jaxen stared at Trogan. "I have no coin to hand, sir, of so great an amount. Can we not park first and then I shall return and render you your toll? It is not as though we intended to turn in the street and ride away immediately."

Trogan's eyes narrowed. "You have coin to pay the toll, then?"

"Of course, sir. But you must know that it is standard practice among traders to hide such monies deep within the loads, to prevent robbery and petty pilfering. It will take time to unload the wagon to reach the strong-box."

"Then you had best be about it, wagonmaster. You shall not move before the toll is paid."

Trogan's voice had become hard, and at the tone of the last few words the men around him raised their weapons.

So that is what this is all about! This man has obviously gone rogue if he is really a tax assessor at all. No wonder the townsfolk ran away when they saw us coming.

If Jaxen begins unloading a wagon to get at the strong box it will leave us vulnerable with everything spilled all over the street and the way blocked. Trogan knows this. What does he plan to do? Arrest us all? That will be interesting.

"You charge us a crown a wagon for crossing a bridge over a river so small I could wade across? What manner of lord gives you the right to levy such taxes? We paid fifty feniks a wagon to cross out of Tranidor and none for the men at all."

Trogan looked annoyed. "By what right do you question my assessments, wagonmaster? All bridges across rivers within North Palarand are subject to such tolls, as you must already know."

"No, they are not," muttered Helen to Garia. "Only those that give entrance to towns, usually."

"...so pay up, wagonmaster, or I shall be forced to confiscate goods to an equivalent value from your train. What say you?"

Keren had ridden slowly up to Jaxen and now dismounted, speaking quietly in his ear. Jaxen looked startled at first but recovered quickly. He turned to Trogan.

"My lord, I cannot unload in the street, we would still be here at sunset. I offer you surety for the toll price, let me park my wagons and retrieve the coin in seemly fashion."

"Surety? What surety?"

"Surety?" Helen muttered. "Hostages, he means. Whatever is Jaxen about?"

"We have two children, sir, of whom this is one. You shall mind them for a bell or so while we organize ourselves. Buffy? Shall you join us?"

He's mad! All he's doing is handing us over to that beast. Once he finds out who we really are there will be no stopping him!

Then she saw Keren looking steadily at her and she had a revelation.

Keren, you are brilliant! Those poor saps won't know what's hit them.

A second, colder assessment of the situation came as she carefully climbed down from the wagon seat.

There are five with crossbows. What can we do about them?

There was a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she walked unsteadily across to join Keren and Jaxen. Kalikan's still here. I'm really glad now I didn't wear those other breeches. This is going to be a real battle with real enemies and there are going to be real wounds at the end of it. Possibly deaths. Possibly mine. I'm not right yet, I just hope I can do this.

As she walked a call came out from behind her, a call in the language of the Six Cities which confused her for a second.

"Daughter-Guide of Warriors! What must we do?"

That's D'Kenik... and D'Janik is probably out of sight behind the wagons! Oh, thank you, Maker! Perhaps we can do this!

She turned slightly to allow D'Kenik to hear her reply.

"When we move, take out the two on the balcony."

"We will so do, Daughter-Guide."

"Hey!" Trogan said angrily. "What did she say?"

Jaxen spread his hands wide. "Your pardon, sir. The girl is foreign, as you can see, daughter of the man who called. She merely reassured him what was happening."

"As you say."

Trosan had his first proper look at Garia and smiled. A callow youth and a young woman? It seemed this entire unexpected situation was playing right into his hands. Once he had the children, why... He spread his hands wide.

"Agreed, wagonmaster. I shall entertain these two while you make your camp and bring me the assessed toll."

Keren looked at Garia from two steps away.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.

Not daring to speak she nodded, careful to keep the new confidence from her expression.

The two began to walk the short distance to Trogan. Garia noticed that the armed men followed them with their eyes instead of keeping them on the wagons, which suited everybody. When she came within a step of Trogan, as he was reaching out a fat hand to grab her, she spun.

Her first kick took him in the gut. He folded with an oof! and began to collapse on the ground. Garia continued to swivel and her second kick took him on the shoulder, rather than his chest as she had expected.

Accuracy's off, she noted. Damned Kalikan!

Still turning, her right arm straightened and the heel of her right hand smacked into Trogan's forehead instead of his temple. He fell over backwards, his head striking the pavement with a distinct crack. Garia began straightening up, continuing to turn so that she could see what else was happening.

I should so not be doing this now!

As Garia spun Keren, who was still a few paces from the man on Trogan's left, dived forward to try and reach him before he released his bolt. Fortunately for him the man had realized that he should still be covering the wagons and his weapon had begun to move back... bad move. Keren's head took him in the stomach, the bolt was released to clatter on the stones and the two went over onto the ground. Keren managed to roll to one side and regain his feet as the weapon fell out of the man's hands. Keren stamped on the man's knee, then, when he involuntarily spasmed with pain, followed it up with the sole of his boot to the man's head.

By the time Keren regained his breath it was all over. One man slumped over the edge of the balcony with a crossbow bolt through his chest, the other was slumped back against the wall of the building with a bolt through his chest and another through his neck. The fourth man was sitting on the ground with a knife sticking out of his shoulder and two men, Keet and Frando, standing guard over him with drawn swords. In the distance, in front of the train, the last man was flat on his back with a longbow arrow sticking out of his chest.

"Keep alert!" he called. "There may be more! Defensive positions, all!"

Those who were exposed crouched down to make themselves smaller targets while the rest drew back against and between the wagons. Keren turned to Garia.

"Okay?"

She tried a weak smile, the fight hormones still blasting through her veins along with all the other hormones. "I think I need a bath," she said, "but otherwise I'm okay. What do we do now?"

Keren scowled. "We take this thug and question him," he said. "And those two others. Do you think he's really Uncle Gil's man?"

"If he was he's been my man for a while," Garia replied with her own scowl. Suddenly, at that realization, something so fierce welled up inside her that it shocked her. "Keren, these are my people! This trash did this to my people! I will not allow it!"

"As you say, Garia. There is a great wrong here and we are just in time to end it. Do you think there are more of them?"

"Almost certainly, Keren. I don't think six could have held a town this size on their own..." She frowned as a thought came to her. "He wanted us as hostages, didn't he? The moment he saw us - me - he wanted to take us prisoner. That would have stopped Jaxen in his tracks, even though there are so many of us. Suppose he has others locked away somewhere?"

"But where?"

Keren looked around at the buildings in the street, most showing signs of neglect and dilapidation. One of these, perhaps? Had Trogan and his men been bleeding this town dry for so long? His attention was taken by the people who had now begun emerging from the buildings, men and women, most soberly dressed in plain country style. They approached the wagons silently, although keeping well clear of the armed men, just forming a loose circle round the whole caravan. Several of them thought to come closer, look at the dead and injured. Jaxen's men made to stop them but Keren gave a sign. In the lead was a middle-aged woman who came and stared down at Trogan before turning with fury on Keren and Jaxen.

"What have you done! In the Maker's name, what have you done to us! If he is dead, the Lord Gilbanar will kill us all and burn down the town!"

Keren turned to her, relaxed. "Oh, I don't think anything like that will happen, mistress. My uncle is not that kind of person."

She regarded Keren as though he were mad. "What does the uncle of a traveling man have to do with it? Master Trogan told us what penalty would be paid if he or his men were to be harmed. Do you think we are fools?" She began wringing her hands. "Now we shall all die, because some brainless traveling boy thinks to use his fists on the Lord Gilbanar's appointed officials."

"Mistress, nobody in Blackstone is going to die." He looked down at Trogan, who was beginning to revive. "Except probably that brute." The crowd gasped. He turned to the woman. "My uncle is the Duke Gilbanar, mistress, which makes me his nephew, and my father the King."

She gaped at Keren. "This cannot be! Why, you are but -"

"- a young man about the age Prince Keren would be?" He bowed. "At your service, mistress."

"But, but, you travel with the common folk, attired as a traveler! I do not believe it! If you are truly the Prince, where are your men?"

Keren looked up the street and raised his voice. "Varno, report!"

"Highness, the man is dead," came the shouted reply. "Stott's aim is incredible!"

"If I travel in disguise, did you also think my men would be in uniform and armor? Most of these men are my escort."

The woman stared at Keren, unable to quite believe what she was hearing. Impulsively, she got down on bended knee, and the whole crowd followed her.

"Rise, please, all of you. This is no place or time for ceremonies. Mistress, did this man take hostages?"

The woman crumbled before his eyes, the tears streaming down. "He did, Your Highness! My husband and my daughter..."

"Where? Show us!"

She pointed to a single-storey stone building beside the one that Trogan and his men had come out of. Keren immediately headed for the door, Garia in his wake. The crowd parted for them.

"Locked."

"Aye, my lord," A voice came from nearby. "This may assist."

A brawny man of middle age held out an iron bar to Keren.

"You have greater strength than I, master smith. Force the door, if you would."

The man stared uncertainly at Keren but the Prince gestured with a smile. The man jammed the lever between door and frame and heaved. With much splintering the door gave way and flew open.

"A light, someone!"

Inside there was a small office occupying the whole width of the building and a door leading to the back. Garia's sense of the Wild West returned. This was so like a sheriff's office it was uncanny. At the rear of the building was a row of three cells. In the first were two young girls, the other two held three men each. From their condition all had been there some time and badly fed.

"Father!" one of the girls cried.

"Keys, my lord. From the office."

The smith handed a bunch of keys to Keren, who tried each and then opened all three cells.

"It is ended," he told the astonished occupants. "Go home, clean yourselves up, eat and rest." His expression hardened. "Tomorrow, there will be a reckoning. For tonight, recovery."

The woman from outside, embraced by a young girl of maybe fourteen years and a thin husband, turned to Keren.

"Highness, what of the Lord Gilbanar? These are his lands. What will happen to us now?"

Keren gave a reassuring smile. "Mistress, these are no longer Duke Gilbanar's lands. He ceded them to the King at the Harvest Festival and the King has made a new barony called Blackstone. Tomorrow, perhaps, I shall introduce your new liege to you."

"A new barony?" her husband muttered. "A present to some crony of the King, perhaps? Will it be little better than what we have endured these last months?"

"Master, I ask you not to speak of my father in such manner."

The man had the grace to flush. His wife said, "This young man says he is the Prince Keren, husband."

Keren continued, "You must be sorely tried if you think such of all nobles. I intend to prove to you - to the whole town - it is not so. We have not yet learned the full details of the villany of Trogan but we shall discover all before he meets his proper judgment. Go, all of you, and rest yourselves. It is nearly dark."

"Your Highness, I beg your pardon, I did not know. This is a dream surely?"

"It is no dream, master."

"Highness," the smith drew Keren's attention. "These other men are too weak to move. May I ask for healers?"

Keren frowned. "I want them out of here, master smith. This place is... offensive. These cells have new tenants, who wait outside. Can you not find boards to take these to their own houses?"

The smith grinned. "Aye, Highness, that we can."

"Then let us all get out of this place. We have a camp to set before it is too dark."

On the veranda Keren put an arm round Garia's shoulder.

"Is that all right? Were you hurt?"

"No, not at all. So, what now?"

"Time to get the camp set up, I think." He smiled apologetically at her. "I'm sorry! I took over, didn't I? This is your domain now. What do you wish, Baroness?"

"Stop it! You're doing quite well on your own, I think. You're right, let's get the wagons up the street and camp set up. What about guards?"

"Hmm. Jaxen's men can look after the wagons, but we'll need a detail for the cells, I think. Your men or mine?"

"Doesn't matter. Don't care. Keren, I need a bath."

These last words were heard by the woman who had just emerged with husband and daughter. She turned to the pair.

"Highness, I heard the mistress's words. I run - my husband runs - ran -" she looked wildly at them then smiled. "We run a small inn over there called the Bell. We have not room for all your men but we could make room for the women and perhaps yourself, if that would be agreeable to you. There is, of course, a bath house and heating water will be no trouble."

Garia smiled at the woman. "Oh, thank you, that would be great! I'm sorry, we have not been introduced. I'm Garia."

"I'm Yanda and this is my husband Fedren and our daughter Kasinna. Shall you walk with us, mistress?"

"I think we'll have to give instructions to the wagon-men first, but we'll be over as soon as we can, Mistress Yanda. There are four women in our party, we're used to sleeping in the same room if necessary, can you manage?"

"Of course! We may only be small, but since the Ptuvil's Claw was shut we are the only inn in Blackstone. We can accommodate you." She grimaced. "Of course, there have been few visitors these last months."

Garia sighed silently. These poor people are about to go from drought to flood, she thought. Do they really deserve this after what has been done to them?

"That will change," she said. "But, get your husband and daughter home, please! They are your first priority right now."

The smith emerged with his own daughter.

"Thank you, Highness, for what you do this day," he said. "We are in your debt."

"Take your daughter home, master smith. There is much to be done, and tonight is not the time to do it. I take it you are of note in this town?"

"Aye, Highness, I was on the local assembly... before they came. Why?"

"Not tonight. I'll call on you tomorrow, if I may?"

"As you desire, Highness. My forge is up there." He pointed along the street.

"Good, and now, perhaps we ought to be about our own business. Good-night to you."

The invalids were taken away on boards by the townspeople. Once the lock-up had been cleared the three surviving men were shut in the cells and the place left with a two-man guard. Another four men searched the property Trogan had used and sealed it to prevent evidence being taken or destroyed. Jaxen had taken the wagons to the parking-place and the normal routine had settled in, as much as it could. When Keren and Garia arrived he called a meeting of those left in the company.

"What are your instructions, Highness?" Jaxen asked.

"We don't know if that was all the men involved in this business, so set a watch and remember those we faced had crossbows. I'll not tell you your job but you know the precautions to take. There is an inn down the street and we - the four women and myself - have been offered rooms there which we are taking." Keren smiled. "Apparently the presence of hot bath-water is a fatal lure to the fairer members of our party."

Jaxen grinned in reply. "As you say, Highness. Will you need a guard setting at the inn? We have enough men to do that."

"Garia?"

"I think we'd better, especially after recent events. Soomit's guarding the lock-up, perhaps I'll take the other four of my men with me. Is that okay?"

"Excellent, milady! Aye, that will be a good idea. I'll send some food down with the men so that your hosts aren't overloaded. Highness, have you decided what happens tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure, Jaxen," Keren began.

"I am," Garia put in. "Tomorrow, I want these people to know who I am. And that means we dress up so that they all know exactly who we are and what we represent. Agreed, Keren?"

"Agreed, Garia."

"So, clean uniforms tomorrow, parade dress, bright weapons, the works. These people have been left out on the edge for far too long and that's about to change. Let's give them a show."

"Aye." His gaze hardened. "Then we shall begin the business of judging those men."

"No!" Garia objected. "I want to do this properly, Keren, so that there is absolutely no doubt about who those people are and what they did to this town. That means properly gathering evidence and holding a proper trial. I want it written down who did what to who and what was taken from who, that kind of thing. I want a complete list of their crimes before we pass sentence."

Keren spread his hands. "It's your barony, milady. You may run matters as you see fit. But we know these are guilty, why bother with all this? We have already seen enough to condemn them."

"I know. But it will matter to the people they abused, Keren. If they feel that justice has been done and seen to be done, they will accept it better. And, don't forget, it will show them what kind of people we are."

Keren smiled at her. "Did I ever tell you how clever you are? As usual, you make good sense. Very well, let us go to the inn and clean ourselves up, get some food. I believe Jaxen will be happier when we are out of his way."

Jaxen grinned. "I didn't say a word, Highness. Which is the inn? I'll have your chests taken there, along with those of milady's party and of her men, before we do much more here. And, if I may, I will join you after the meal to discuss what may happen next."

"What you mean is, you'll join us for a jar of ale, true?" Keren grinned at Jaxen. "Come down, as you wish. Perhaps our guildsmen should join us also."

There was a brief period of chaos in the camp until Jaxen realized it would be better to unload a wagon and use that to take all the chests to the inn. The party walked down the street together, with the wagon following, to arrive at the inn's door. Yanda was standing waiting on the threshold.

"Highness, mistresses, welcome to the Bell Inn. We have made rooms ready for all of you. Shall you enter?"

Inside Garia found a typical inn laid out on the standard plan. They followed Yanda up the 'women's stairs' to a corridor with various sized rooms off. The four decided that it would probably be safer to begin with if they all shared the same room, so male servants came up with all their chests, causing Yanda to raise an eyebrow.

"So many chests, mistress? I know a woman wears more than any man but do you travel with all your belongings?"

Garia laughed. "Yanda, we are wearing traveling costume as a disguise. That accounts for one chest each. Another chest has our normal clothes, a third contains formal evening wear and riding clothes and the last contains... exercise gear, armor and weapons."

"Weapons? Riding clothes? Formal evening wear? What manner of people are you, if I may ask? I have never heard of the like."

Garia glanced around. The men had gone, there were only women left in the room together with a large number of chests.

"Let me properly introduce ourselves to you, mistress. This is Sukhana, she is sister to Wagonmaster Jaxen and a true traveler. Next is Jenet, who is my maid. This tall girl is Lady Merizel and she is my secretary and close friend. Finally, I am Lady Garia, also known as Baroness Blackstone."

Yanda stepped back, her eyes widening. "You are the new liege of Blackstone? Milady, I did not know..."

She attempted to get down on one knee but Garia prevented it.

"We don't need any of that fuss, Yanda. Tonight we are all just guests at your inn. You may address Merry and I as 'Milady' if you must but I won't bite your head off if you don't. Now I seem to remember you mentioned something about a bath..."