Chapter 12: Market Town

The guild masters voted at dawn, standing up one at a time on the dirt floor of the market hall.

Katell called the names.

The judge sat on his platform with his good ear turned to the benches, and the River Lord sat beside him eating a pear.

"For the charter," said the first master, and Katell made a mark.

"For," said the second.

"Against," said the third, in a new green coat.

It went like that down the benches.

By the time the last master sat down, Katell had made nine marks on each side of her slate.

"Nine and nine," she said. "A tie."

"A tie is a no," the judge said. "I'm sorry, my lady."

The River Lord finished his pear and put the core on the judge's table.

Through the side door I could hear the judge's guards in the yard, and the sound of a ladder being set against a beam.

"My lord," I said. "Before the vote closes, may I speak to the guild?"

The judge sighed. "Briefly."

I turned around to face the nine new coats.

"What does the River Lord's chain take from your boats?" I asked.

They looked at each other.

"A fifth," one of them said. "Everybody knows that."

"The River Lord's grant from the crown gives him a tenth," I said.

The hall went quiet.

"I copied his payments to the crown every quarter for ten years," I said.

"He pays the crown its share as if he takes a tenth."

"The other tenth he keeps," I said. "He has kept it for twenty-four years. It was your money."

A master in a new coat half stood up.

"That's a lie."

"Then the grant will say a fifth," I said. "The king's judge carries the grants for the south in his box."

Everybody looked at the judge.

The old man was looking at the River Lord.

Then he bent down, opened an iron box at his feet and went through it with his spotted hands, one roll at a time.