undying legion 01 - unbound man Read Free Page A

the official spotted it and shifted his diatribe to home in on this new display of contempt.
    “This is the respect you show, yes? What is it that you find more pressing than the interests of the city? What could — humph! ”
    The official noticed Grae at last and snapped his mouth shut, blinking at the courier in bemusement. Oblivious, Grae bent his head to his bag. “Got some letters for you,” he said, his voice trailing off as he rummaged through the bag. “They’re just here…”
    “Thanks, Grae.” Arandras turned as the nameless official seemed about to object. “A moment,” he snapped.
    The man glared, but made no other response.
    “Not those… ah.” Grae pulled an unusually bulky sheaf of documents from the bag and dropped it on Arandras’s writing desk with a thud. Arandras thanked him again, tossing the bundled letters into the low basket he kept for that purpose. Still absorbed in the contents of his bag, Grae paused at the door, insensible to the official’s mounting irritation behind him; then, muttering under his breath, he flipped the bag shut and at last took his leave.
    “Well,” the official said, folding his arms with exaggerated patience. “If you’re quite ready to resume our discussion?”
    Weeper save me. “Of course. Forgive me, I didn’t catch your name.”
    “Onsoth. Officer of the City of Spyridon, as I believe I mentioned. And —”
    “You did,” Arandras said. Onsoth scowled at the interruption, and Arandras hurried on before the man could work himself into another tirade. “Truly, I went through all this with your predecessor.” Who was able to express himself in far fewer words, and at a much lower volume. “And he agreed that nothing I do here requires either Library membership or a licence from them.”
    Onsoth’s scowl deepened. “I’m sure he did. But my predecessor was, perhaps, not in possession of all the facts? Such as the fact that your business, Arandras Kanthesi, goes beyond correspondence and the like, and in fact extends to schooling?”
    Arandras spread his hands. “I don’t know what you —”
    “Of course you do. You’ve been teaching the local brats their letters! The ditch-digger’s whelp, for one. How many others? Do you know the fine for teaching without a licence? How much is he paying? How many others are there? Well?”
    “No others! He only —”
    “So, private tutelage. How much is he paying you? Must be a sweet sum to make it worth your while. No wonder the kid looks like he hasn’t eaten for a month. How much?”
    “Nothing! He just watches me work sometimes.”
    “An apprentice, then! Well, if that isn’t the worst of them all.” Onsoth grinned broadly. “And is this apprenticeship registered? No, of course it isn’t. No scribe or notary can register an apprentice without first obtaining Library membership. And that seems to be something you just don’t have.”
    Arandras bit back a retort. The boy in question was scarcely six years old. Calling him an apprentice was beyond absurd. Weeper forbid that the Library should just leave me alone.
    Onsoth seemed to feel that silence was not a thing that should be allowed to linger. He leaned forward, lowering his voice to what he probably imagined to be a confidential tone. “There’s no need to concern yourself with this. You know that, yes? All you need to do is become a member. Nothing you do here has to change.” He glanced over the cramped shop, the unpaved street outside. “Hells, membership would likely improve your clientele no end. Up your takings. Let you find some place to work other than…” A gesture encompassing it all. “Why wouldn’t you want that?”
    Why not, indeed? The Library put up no barriers to membership, or none that would exclude even a moderately competent scribe. And it was certainly true that most of Spyridon would not even consider using a scribe who lacked the Library’s imprimatur. Only here near the low market, where enough people were