"Roger Taylor - Nightfall 1 - Farnor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

тАШThe KingтАЩs got no need for our small offering, else the gatherers would have been around fast enough,тАЩ
they declared. тАШAnd in any case, we havenтАЩt had a tithe master in living memory. How are we supposed
to know whatтАЩs due? We canтАЩt prepare for collection what we donтАЩt know about, can we?тАЩ
This was a telling point and invariably provoked much sage nodding, even amongst their opponents.

тАШNevertheless . . .тАЩ came the final rebuttal, uttered with great significance but never completed. It needed
no completion. The penalties for non-payment of the tithe were indeed severe, and not something to be
risked lightly, especially as the tithe, calculated by whatever method, was not particularly onerous.

The debate had reached the status now of being an annual ritual, and so too had the conclusion. On the
due date, Dalmas Eve, the estimated tithe would be ceremoniously prepared in the tithe barn for
collection by the KingтАЩs gatherers and the barn officially sealed by the senior village elder.

Although many matters relating to the tithe were contended amongst the villagers, all, both ignorant and
knowledgeable, knew for certain that the gatherers having failed to appear on Dalmas Day or Dalmas
Morrow meant that the King had munificently returned the tithe to his loyal subjects.

Thus, three days into Dalmastide, no gatherers having appeared, the seals would be solemnly broken
and the barn opened.

With continued solemnity, a short speech of gratitude would be made to the generosity of the absent
monarch and then a portion of the tithe would be distributed to those whose crops had fared least well
and those who could not properly fend for themselves from whatever cause. That done, the solemnity
faded rapidly and the barn would become a market place filled with loud haggling and bartering over the
remaining produce. This would be followed by a large and usually raucous banquet.

During the fourth day of Dalmastide the village тАУ indeed the whole valley тАУ was invariably unusually
quiet.

It was the approach of Dalmas, rather than any concern about sheep worrying, that had prompted
Garren Yarrance to send his son out to check on the sheep, and he was leaning on a gate pondering the
extent of his contribution to the tithe this year when Farnor came into sight over the top of a nearby hill.

Garren clicked his tongue reproachfully as he watched his son running and jumping down the steep
hillside.

How many times had he told the lad not to run? тАШYou stumble and fall, break a leg, then where are we,
your mother and me? Tending you and doing your work, thatтАЩs where. Or getting into debt paying
someone else to do it.тАЩ He would pause. тАШThatтАЩs always minding we find you, or that old Gryss can put
you together again if we do.тАЩ

It was a litany that he himself had learned, from his own father, as doubtless he in his turn had from his.
And Farnor ignored it similarly.

Garren changed the emphasis somewhat as Farnor reached him, sweating and breathless. тАШVery good,
son,тАЩ he said. тАШYou save ten minutes by risking life and limb to bring me an urgent tale, then I have to wait
for ten minutes before you can speak.тАЩ

But the reproach faded from his voice even while he was speaking as FarnorтАЩs agitation became