Out of the Darkness

Since Skarnu couldn’t very well argue with that, he buried his nose in the news sheet again. Glancing up over the top of it, he saw the triumphant look on Merkela’s face. He let out a silent sigh. His wife despised his sister, and nothing in the world looked like changing that. He’d hoped at first that time might, but thought himself likely to be disappointed there. That might eventually matter very much-but even if it did, he failed to see what he could do about it.

Instead of bringing it up and starting an argument, he found another story in the news sheet to talk about: “The last little Algarvian army in Siaulia has finally surrendered.”

That made Merkela raise her eyebrows. “I didn’t even notice,” she said. “What took the whoresons so long?”

Laughing, Skarnu wagged a finger at her. “That’s not how a marchioness talks.”

“It’s how I talk,” Merkela said. “And you didn’t answer my question.”

“They stayed in the field a long time and caused a lot of trouble,” Skarnu said. “Not a lot of real redheads in the army there, of course-most of the soldiers are natives from the Siaulian colonies. And they lost their last crystal a while ago, so nobody here on Derlavai could let them know Algarve’d given up. The Lagoan general up there let the Algarvian brigadier in charge keep his sword.”

“I know where I’d have let him keep it-right up his. .” Merkela’s voice trailed off as she realized that wasn’t fitting language for a marchioness, either.

“By everything the news sheets said, the Algarvians fought a clean war up there,” Skarnu said.

“I don’t care,” his wife replied. “They’re still Algarvians.” To her, that was the long and short of it.

Servants cleared away the breakfast dishes. Skarnu went out to the reception hall. “Good morning, your Excellency,” Valmiru said. The butler bowed low.

“Good morning to you, Valmiru,” Skarnu said. “What’s on the list for today?” The servitor was doing duty for a majordomo, and handling the job well.

“Let me see, sir,” Valmiru said now, taking a list from a tunic pocket and donning spectacles to read it. “Your first appointment is with a certain Povilu, who accuses one of his neighbors, a certain Zemglu, of complicity with the Algarvians.”

“Another one of those, eh?” Skarnu said with a sigh.

“Aye, your Excellency,” Valmiru replied, “although perhaps not quite of the ordinary sort, for Zemglu has also lodged a charge of collaboration against Povilu.”

“Oh, dear,” Skarnu said. “One of those? How many generations have these two families hated each other?”

“I don’t precisely know, sir-one of the disadvantages of coming here from the capital,” Valmiru replied. “I had hoped you might be familiar with the gentlemen from your, ah, earlier stay in this part of the kingdom.”

“No such luck,” Skarnu said. “Are they from over by Adutiskis?” At Valmiru’s nod, he nodded, too. “Merkela’s farm was close to Pavilosta. I know those people better.” He sighed again. “But I’m everybody’s marquis, so I have to get to the bottom of it if I can.”

He sat in the seat of judgment in the reception hall and looked out at Povilu and Zemglu and their supporters. Povilu was squat and Zemglu was tall and skinny. They’d each brought not only kinsfolk but, by the packed hall, all their friends as well. The two sides plainly despised each other. Skarnu wonder if they would riot.

Not if I can help it, he thought. “All right, gentlemen. I will hear you,” he said. “Master Povilu, you may speak first.”

“Thank you, your Excellency,” Povilu rumbled. He was a man of no breeding, but he’d obviously practiced his speech for a long time, and brought it out well. He accused his neighbor of betraying men from the underground to the redheads. Zemglu tried to shout objections.

“Wait,” Skarnu told him. “You’ll have your turn.”

At last, Povilu bowed and said, “That proves it, your Excellency.”

Skarnu waved to the other peasant. “Now, Master Zemglu, say what you will.”

“Now you’ll hear truth, sir, after this bugger’s lies,” Zemglu said. Povilu howled. Skarnu silenced him. Zemglu went on to accuse his neighbor of having left one daughter behind so he wouldn’t have to show Skarnu her bastard child.

“That was rape!” Povilu yelled.

“You say so now,” Zemglu retorted, and went on with his accusations. His followers and those of Povilu pushed and shoved at one another.

“Enough,” Skarnu shouted, hoping they would listen to him. Eventually, they did. Still at the top of his lungs, he went on, “Now you’ll listen to me.” Povilu and Zemglu both leaned forward, tense anticipation on their faces. Skarnu said, “I doubt either of you has clean hands in this business. I don’t doubt you were enemies before the Algarvians came, and that you’re trying to use the cursed redheads to score points off each other. Will you tell me I’m wrong?”

Both peasants loudly denied it. Skarnu studied their followers. Those abashed expressions told him he’d hit the mark. He waited for Povilu and Zemglu to fall silent again-it took a while-then held up his hand.