Page 7 of Weaving Winter

Room 4 was a small room, with a mahogany table at the back of the room, and several benches facing the table. There were two other people there, each sitting on a bench. One was a man, the other an older woman. I wondered what their crimes were, or if they were plaintiffs, here to bring a complaint against someone else. I wasn’t sure who either was, though I thought I had seen the man around town. I settled myself on the furthermost back bench, closest to the door, to wait.

We didn’t have to wait long. Within moments, a door near the desk opened and Sheriff Leif Garimorn entered the room, a guard by his side. The guard motioned for the three of us to stand, and, without a word, we obeyed.

Garimorn wasn’t tall, but he walked with authority. I cringed, wanting to hide. He was a gaunt man, harsh in his thinness, but wiry with muscle tone, and his blonde hair streamed over his shoulders, while his narrow nose ridged like a mountain down his face.

He watched the world through sharp blue eyes, dark and seething like the sea, and though he maintained himself with an aloof stature, I could see the pent up hunger in his gaze and it made me want to hide. Leif was known around town for abusing his servant women and forcing his wife to accept that he bedded them at will.

As he settled himself behind the table and the guard nodded for the three of us to sit, one of the Tribunal recorders entered the room and she sat to his right.

I immediately lowered myself to the bench, wishing that I’d thought of selling my mother’s bride-dress before the tithe was due, rather than after.

“Tribunal is now in session. Record that this is the thirteenth day of the Ice Moon, Year 10, Cycle of the Dragon.”

The recorder obediently wrote down the notes in a massive leatherbound book. “Done.”

Leif Garimorn stared at the three of us, his gaze falling on me. “We’ll start with her,” he said, pointing at me. The guard motioned for me to approach the desk.

Reluctantly, I crossed to the front of the room, standing squarely in front of the sheriff. I handed him the piece of paper. He took it, then looked me over, from head to toe. I shivered. Something was off. I could feel it.

“What do you have to say for yourself? Your tithe is late. Not only that, but your mother didn’t pay the tithe for your household last year. So you owe us for two years.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re father was Bjorn Wildwalker, wasn’t he?”

I nodded. “Yes, sir. He died, and then my mother died a few months ago. That’s why the tithe is late.”

“She wasn’t dead last year, was she?” His voice cut like a razor.

I felt like he’d slapped me in the face, but I wasn’t going to let him see me squirm. “No, sir. But we were adjusting to my father’s death and trying to figure out what to do.” I hesitated, then said, “I have the coin necessary to pay both last year’s tithe, and this year’s.”

His eyes glistened at the mention of money, but then he paused, holding my gaze again. “Stand back a few steps.”

Swallowing, I obeyed. This wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. “Yes, sir.” The sir was important. Always show respect to the authorities. It was one of the first things I had been taught as a child.

The sheriff stood, walking around the desk. He circled me, still staring, his gaze fastened on my breasts. I wished to hell that I’d dressed in a shapeless bag now, or a loose tunic and trousers. But I did my best to stand straight, facing forward, and not react.

Finally, he returned to his seat and, without looking up, he said, “I’m going to make an example of you…for the village. You had ample opportunity to pay your debt over the past year. While I can forgive the lateness on this year’s payment due to your mother’s death, I simply can’t absolve you of letting an entire year go by without fulfilling your obligation.”

At that, I panicked. I didn’t want to end up in the dungeon. “But I have the coin?—”

“Oh, you’ll pay the coin, but I sentence you to work in my employ. You’ll live in my household and take care of the needs of my wife for the next five years. Your lease is forfeit, everything in your house is forfeit except for your clothing and personal items, and you’re to report to my house tomorrow morning.” He sounded so smug I wanted to smack him. “If you aren’t on my doorstep tomorrow morning at sunrise, the guards will hunt you down and drag you back in shackles. You may return home to pack your personals.”

He turned to the recorder. “Noted?”

She nodded, a blank look on her face. “Noted, milord.”

He turned back to me. “Pay the coin on your way out and report to my house tomorrow.”

Sick to my stomach, I approached the recorder and handed her the coin. She wrote out a receipt and marked my account as paid in the ledger. As I turned to go, she caught my gaze and gave me a sympathetic look. She knew what I was in for.

As soon as I was outside the building, I began to panic. But I caught myself before I spiraled. I needed a plan, and I needed it now.

If I did as ordered, I’d be at Leif’s mercy, and the way he had looked at me, I had no doubt that he was going to push his way into my bed, and by the time my servitude would be over, I’d be out on the streets with a broken spirit, and if I was unlucky, a child or two. I couldn’t stay in the village, that was a fact.

“I have to talk to Sanya,” I muttered, hurrying through the streets to the bakery. Everybody knew I was friends with Sanya, so it wouldn’t seem strange if Garimorn’s spies saw me.

Renmark was busy at this time of day. Early afternoon was the time when housewives shopped for the family and when business was done. I ignored those who gave me the side-eye, who still remembered my father and the bear.

I darted out of the way of a horse pulling a cart, its hooves clattering along the cobblestone square, and then, a light flutter landed on my eyelashes and I looked up to see tiny snowflakes floating down. The sky was shining with a silverish hue, and I could smell a stronger storm on the horizon.

As I pushed through the bakery doors, the warm, crusty smell hit me and my stomach rumbled. Even panic couldn’t stop my belly from protesting.

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