Another excerpt from The Smiling Stallion Inn
Copyright © 2014 by
Courtney Bowen
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“Penniless miller, come singing on
the road, the lovely maiden passes by with a hope,” Basha sang as he walked
down the main road of Coe Baba, adjusting the tie around his neck. “Blow her a
kiss, and dance away from haven.” His other hand gripped the bouquet of
early-blooming flowers, barely more than weeds at this point. His feet nearly
slipped, as the road was still wet from the thaw, not good to walk upon unless
you were sure of yourself.
The snow was behind them now; it
would not snow again, or at least not so heavily, until the next Sna season. It
would rain instead. The mild snow would turn into sleet and slush and dissolve
into rain once the sun shone brighter and the temperature rose. It was the
first day of a new year and the first season Reda, the season of rebirth in
between the seasons of Sna, snow, and Plig, planting, one of five seasons with
two months each. Each season had thirty-six days in the first month and
thirty-seven days in the second month, with the exception of an extra day every
four years at year’s end. For five months now--or close to five months now, if
one did not count the months when they were apart--Basha had dated Jawen, ever
since their first kiss.
He continued on his own, once he
had turned onto the side road that led south and west from the town square. “I
love you, I love you, that’s all I want to say. I love you, I love you, that’s
all I want to sing…” He stopped and sighed, saying to himself, “But I hope I
can say it, I hope I can sing it, without the door slamming right into my
face.” He was now surrounded by the houses of the rich in Coe Baba, not his
type of neighborhood. He stepped around a herd of sheep, hoping to avoid their
balnor as a shepherd boy prodded them
on toward the fields by the river near the baron’s estate. He hated balnor. But
then he paused when he thought he saw the shutter to Jawen’s bedroom window
move. Was she up there? No, it must have been the wind.
Calluses covered both of his hands
from his years of labor at the inn and in the communal fields, cuts as well
from learning how to use a sword in classes taught by Sir Nickleby. He hoped
that she might be able to see these hands, these calluses and cuts upon them,
as signs that he could support her with his hard work. But he also wished that
he had smoother hands, so that he might be able to hold her without his skin
brushing up roughly against hers.
He was seventeen years old, and
this was going to be his best year ever. He was going to make it so by doing
all of the things he had wanted to do, but had never dared to do, namely
proposing to his beloved Jawen.
He stopped in front of a large
house, second only to the baron’s at the very end. The merchant’s house was two
stories tall with blue shutters in the front and made from brick, the most
expensive material. It was adorned with blue and red wooden trim, almost too
similar in shade to the baron’s and Coe Baba’s heraldic colors, a decorative
cornice along the roofline, and pilasters alongside the paneled red wooden
front door supporting a roof over the front porch. All of the windows of Lapo’s
house, including the large dormer windows on the second floor, were casement
windows with delicate, fragile, and expensive glass panes.
Basha hesitated, wondering if he
should go up to that front door, but then Jawen would not like that, especially
if she was still worried about her father. Always her father. Lapo,
Lapo—everything was about Lapo. Basha thought he couldn’t hide it anymore, all
of his anger and frustration over what could easily be solved if she wasn’t so
insistent upon not upsetting her father.
And yet she was sparing herself as
well as him, wasn’t she? Basha couldn’t blame her for trying to escape her
problems, but even he had to admit that she had gone too far and had avoided
too much trouble for too long. She had to face what she had wrought and decide
what she wanted to do with her life, just as he would decide with his own. It
was time. “Someday, Jawen, you will see me,” Basha said, a refrain he had
repeated over the years ever since he was eight years old; a refrain he had
repeated to give himself strength, especially now as he stood on Jawen’s front
doorstep.
His actions were crazy. They would
immediately put both of them at risk, not just with Lapo, but also with Jawen,
as she had forbidden him from coming near her home. Lapo might answer the door
or something like that. He just hoped that he would be able to run fast enough
if that was called for. He did not want to wait anymore, though, and to take a
risk like this, so soon before the Courtship ritual would start, might make
Jawen think twice about what his intentions and what she wanted to do. Maybe
she might even realize that it was time for them to be together. Basha knocked
on the door, taking a deep breath as he hid his anxiety by holding his head and
his bouquet high. Today would be the start of his new future and his new life
with Jawen, and maybe then he would be satisfied.
“Jawen! Can you go get that?” His
manner businesslike and self-assured, Lapo wrapped his arms around his wife,
Mawen, as she cooked breakfast and rubbed his face into Mawen’s neck as he
yelled at his oldest daughter. Though Jawen liked the thought that her parents
still loved each other after so many years of marriage, she did not like the
sight of them so promiscuously intertwined together, right in front of her when
she was just about to eat breakfast, and with the other children present as
well. Her parents weren’t supposed to have such “feelings” for each other out
in public, Jawen thought to herself, when they were supposed to be mature,
respectable adults. No wonder they had so many children.
Technically, Jawen was the most
responsible figure in the household, beside her parents, at this point, as she
was the oldest child still living there. Sencaen, who was nineteen, had already
married and moved out of the household. He was…Jawen could not really describe
him. She had never been as close to Sencaen, perhaps, as to her younger
siblings. Sencaen had been close to her father before he left, traveling with
him on his merchant trips, but Jawen had spent most of her time here, helping
to take care of her younger siblings, especially Rajar, Annalise, and Tukansa,
and the household in general alongside her mother.
Her father had been disappointed
when Sencaen had abandoned him, absconding with a young woman he had
disapproved of, when he had wanted Sencaen to take over some of his duties in
preparation for his inheritance. But for now, her father had to look elsewhere
for solace and continue the family business on his own.
Jawen sighed and said, “Okay,
Father!” as she got up, already leaving the kitchen table.
Tukansa, or “Tuki” for short, was
about six years old, the baby girl of the family who had little idea of what
was going on around her as she played with her dolls. Annalise was about eight
years old and starting to become more aware, or at least more curious about
what was going on around her, as she often glanced over at her parents kissing
whenever she thought no one was looking.
Rajar was ten and obnoxious. He
was always pulling on Annalise’s hair or stealing Tukansa’s dolls, trying to
lord it over his younger female siblings or get attention for himself. Jawen never
could figure out his motivations. All she could to do was to intervene and make
sure that Rajar behaved, giving back Tukansa’s dolls intact and apologizing to
the girls. Either he would learn how to behave, grow up enough to supplant and
suppress his feelings, or Annalise and Tukansa might gang up on him, or perhaps
a little bit of everything.
Fence was twelve and had already
gotten out of the worst phases of childhood by most accounts, although now he
was on the brink of manhood and almost ready to train under Sir Nickleby,
commander of the town militia. Fence’s head had swelled a bit, and he imagined
himself to be a dashing knight or a daring highwayman. She passed by Fence’s
chair and had to dodge his knife and fork as he dueled with himself. “Watch it!”
she cried. “Aim for the fork!”
“Sorry!”
Talia was fifteen, the sister
closest in age, if not in temperament, to her. Talia seemed to be the most
spoiled and conceited of her siblings, though Jawen was incapable of judging
herself. The two of them shared a room and held a lot of grudges against each
other. Talia was the closest thing she had to a rival in her family. Talia and
Jawen glowered at each other as Jawen passed by. “I wonder who it could be?”
Talia smirked at her older sister. Jawen raised a finger and shook it at her
but didn’t say a word.
She did not want anyone to suspect
what was happening outside, as she had already glimpsed through her bedroom
window, just before coming downstairs to help separate Rajar and Annalise,
Basha walking down the street, dressed in a fine white buttoned-down collared
shirt with a tie, and flowers in his hands. Her mouth had dropped at the sight
of him moving with a spring in his step. She almost thought about running
outside to stop him coming here, but her family would surely notice.
Not now, she had thought, not today. Why
couldn’t things just stay the same as they always were? He had been dancing,
she was fairly certain of that, and singing, or wailing at least, and she could
not look away from him. He was saying something, over and over again, though
she could not hear what he was singing, or saying, as he was too far away. She
had closed the shutters to her bedroom window just as he had looked up while
sidestepping around a flock of sheep and their shepherd. She did not think he
had seen her.
She had hoped that it would be
just an ordinary day, that nothing new would ever change it, but it was not
meant to be. Not now, she thought, not today. Did she ever want to leave her
family? Jawen thought as she closed the kitchen door behind her. Maybe she did,
but only just a little bit. She loved her family, despite what troubles she
might have with them.
Conflicted about what to do, she
went down the front hallway, which was lined with tapestries and even bits of
wallpaper, but she did not want to look at the decorations. They reminded her
too much of her father’s activities, which may or may not be legal. A clock
chimed, and she brushed back a bit of hair.
Her father was the one of the most
respected, richest merchants in town who supplied the stores with what they
needed to sell, goods from faraway places that people could not find in Coe
Baba, and he also sold furniture and other goods from Coe Baba in other towns
as part of the exchange. Not many townspeople traveled beyond Coe Baba, along
roads or trails that had to be cleared if they became overgrown, or might
contain traps that lulled travelers into believing that everything was safe.
And sometimes, if people did survive the trip to another town, they did not come
back here ever again.
Coe Baba was one of the smallest
towns in the middle of nowhere. Who would ever want to travel here, or live
here? Except for those fanatics, the worshippers of the Oracle of Mila, nobody
from out of town ever really came here, and people mostly only stayed in Coe
Baba because it was safe and peaceful and they were used to living here.
And for those who got the chance
to leave, most often the ones accepted by the Border Guards, some of them never
came back again, because there was so much promise, excitement, and
opportunities out there for them to enjoy. Basha could be one of those young
men, Jawen thought to herself sometimes. If he ever got the chance to leave Coe
Baba for good, joining the Border Guards or something like that, then he might
never want to come back again. There was very little holding him here, aside
from his family, and her. If he ever got it into his head that there was
nothing left for him here, then he might leave for good. He always said that he
never really belonged here, and he ran away once, as a boy. He could do it
again.
Well, her father always came back.
She could always depend upon her father for that, and he brought things from
the outside world such as books, clothes, and jewelry that people needed to
sell, to survive and thrive, and he also helped them sell their own goods in
other towns. They demanded his service, and he profited from it, garnering a
lot of praise over the years from the townspeople of Coe Baba, for he gave them
what they wanted. He sold his wares to the storekeepers and to the Baron in Coe
Baba, he sold their wares in other towns, he partnered with other merchants to
help transport their goods and he kept a little more for himself than was
agreed upon in these exchanges.
“I deserve such rewards for what I
can get for the townspeople,” Lapo had said to Jawen once when she tried to
confront him about these extra cuts for himself. “I risk much on my trips, when
my invested time and money, not to mention my life, is threatened by thieves,
swindlers, and even nature along the way.”
“Not to mention the money and
goods from other townspeople and the Baron.” Jawen had said. “And who knows
what else from other merchants?”
“So what if I take a little, money
or goods? It’s not exactly what you would call stealing.” Lapo had said.
“But you lie to them!” Jawen had
cried. “You lie and shortchange the townspeople for the sales of goods from Coe
Baba, you overcharge them on the sales of goods from other towns, and you still
take money from them for your salary!”
“How did you learn all about
this?” Lapo had asked.
“I looked at your accounts.” Jawen
had said. “There were some gaps between what you earned and what you charged.
Not to mention this painting, which was a duplicate that you would have sold, along
with others, as an original in Coe Wana, and this mirror from Pakka, which
should have gone to Coe Anji with the rest of the merchant train passing
through Coe Dobila, but you stole it, along with numerous other pieces around
the house. I can’t even fathom how much all of it is worth.”
Personally, Jawen thought that
Lapo had kept the mirror for himself to admire his reflection in and to have
everyone in the family look presentable before they went outside to face the
world and that he had kept the painting to ennoble his household, as if it
belonged to a lord and his family. But she did not feel so noble.
“Huh. Smart. Be that as it may,
you have to figure in the costs of my trips, both ways.” Lapo had said, “My
salary doesn’t cover all of those costs, not to mention the side trips and
transportation partnerships.”
“How much do they cost?” Jawen
asked. “And how much do you earn from them?”
“Not nearly enough.” Lapo said. “I
need to esure that I have full coverage with my livelihood if anything goes
wrong with one of my trips.”
“Or if you do anything wrong.”
Jawen remarked.
“Anyway, as for these other pieces
of furniture and decorations, well, I paid for these goods, the same as anybody
else, even though the price might have been different for me in the end.” He
shook his head. “It’s not like anybody else, or hardly anybody else, could
afford the merchandise that I pulled off of my own wagon or merchant train.” He
coughed. “And those things would have been wasted if I or anyone else, had to
sell them, and couldn’t, except at a slashed rate, and after I had traveled so
many miles, faced constant threat, and paid good money just for a clearance
sale? Malakel it, I am not going to stand for that!” He thumped his hand down
at this point, startling Jawen and setting her teeth on edge. “I might as well
enjoy the fruit of my labor.”
“Excuses, excuses.” Jawen said.
“The baron knows about it, by the
way.” Lapo added. “He understands that I have to do this for the sake of our
family.”
“And your friendship with the baron
doesn’t factor into it?”
“He is my friend, but most of the
time, that doesn’t have anything to do with my job. He is still one of my
employers and partners.”
“And you give him a generous loan
every once in awhile.”
“I am the only merchant who will
handle Coe Baba’s trade!” Lapo had cried. “Without me, there would be no
outside trading! None of the other merchants in Coe Anji or Coe Dobila or Coe
Wana will even come to Coe Baba! I talk to them, I try to arrange some trades,
to get some of my partners to invest in Coe Baba, but they think we are too
backwards, unprofitable, and dangerous. They don’t think it’s worth their time
and effort. But I am committed to this job and I can be trusted to handle it. I
haven’t earned a name for myself just by shortchanging and overcharging
everyone. I do the job, regardless of what happens. I bring wealth to this
community.” He had said. “The baron knows that. He knows that I won’t cheat
anyone beyond what I require and I still contribute. I don’t abandon my
hometown.”
“But father, I still don’t see how
you could justify it.” Jawen had said, though in a timid voice as she started
to see her argument failing.
“Look, Jawen, I know that you
think life should be fair, and that there should be a balance in the world with
everyone earning what is fair and reasonable, but that’s not how these things
work out.” Lapo said. “Life is unfair, things can change suddenly, and
sometimes you have to take advantage of what you can get before it is too late.
You have to fight for your share and earn as much as you make or take.”
“I’m not that naïve.” Jawen
muttered.
“I only take a little bit to
support myself and my family, give them the nicer things in life. My ventures
pay off well in the end for everyone involved, and everyone is happy. You are
happy, aren’t you, my dear baby girl?” He would smile at Jawen then. He would
win his arguments with her by saying so much that, after awhile, even Jawen
agreed with him.
Jawen had been through this type
of conversation with him before. Ever since she was little, she had been told
that she was her father’s baby girl, and she could depend on him to get her
everything she had ever wanted. He was good at getting things from other
people, sometimes selling to them at a higher rate than he was charged and
sometimes buying from them at a greater quantity and lower price than he needed
to sell.
Oh, sometimes it did not matter to
her what her father did, so long as he did not try to interfere in the personal
affairs of anyone, especially herself. For even though she did not exactly like
what he was doing or saying sometimes, he only tried to provide the best for
himself and his family, right? And he might have cheated the townspeople a
little bit, not to mention other merchants, but that was only to be expected,
only fair, when life could be cruel. He was ruthless in protecting what
belonged to him and what he loved. He was her father, after all, and she loved
him as well.
Jawen hesitated before opening the
front door. Her father had told her and her siblings to never settle for
second-best but to always keep negotiating for the best offers. That was how he
got to be so successful in business. Though she was old enough now to be
serious about finding a potential husband, she doubted that Basha would be a
respectable-enough candidate for her father—or for herself.
Her circumstances as the
merchant’s oldest daughter carried a certain amount of prestige. The
townspeople did not know the full extent of her father’s indiscretions, and
neither did she, but they all saw him as respectable. There were two other
fledging merchant businesses that had tried to trade in or around Coe Baba, but
Lapo owned the monopoly; he was the merchant prince of Coe Baba, and no one
could beat him, so he was respectable. That was how society ran.
Who would ever want to leave Coe
Baba, this peaceful place, when the world was such a dangerous place? Jawen
thought to herself. Those that did had to be crazy. Sometimes she wanted to
leave Coe Baba, in her most desperate moments, but she was so scared, so afraid
of going out there, with good reason, that she was afraid that she never would.
Jawen heard a sound and turned
around to see Annalise standing in the hallway, framed by the tapestries and
wallpaper on either side of her as she grasped her dolly. Annalise asked, “What
are you doing?” to Jawen.
“I’m just…Go back into the
kitchen,” Jawen told her little sister before she opened the front door to
Basha.
