The Choice of Magic - Michael G. Manning Page 0,112

forced down about half of what was in the bowl before he stopped. He just couldn’t make himself eat any more of it. When he noticed Tiny eyeing it, he offered the big man the rest of his portion. Tiny lifted the bowl and finished it in two large gulps.

“Thanks,” said the big man.

The second morning they were taken out and lined up outside of one of the rooms on the second floor. The magistrate had them brought in one at a time. “Name?” asked the rather severe-looking man when Will’s turn came.

“William Cartwright.”

The magistrate gave him a bored look. “Care to explain how you came to be at the town gate wearing a Darrowan arming jacket?”

Will repeated the abbreviated story he had given the guards at the gate, mentioning nothing of the men he had fought in Barrowden or the help he had received from his faery aunt.

“You expect me to believe you crossed the pass from Barrowden while it was being defended by Darrowan soldiers?” asked the magistrate. When Will nodded he continued, “And that you slew one of their scouts and stole his armor and weapons?”

“It was dark and snowing, sir,” said Will, trying to clarify.

The constable beside him growled. “Address the magistrate as ‘Your Honor.’”

“Your Honor.”

“You seem to be of age. Why haven’t you been taken into the army already?”

“I wasn’t in Barrowden when the press g—when the king’s men came,” said Will. “I came to Branscombe to volunteer.”

The magistrate frowned. “Is there anyone who can vouchsafe your stated identity?”

Will nodded eagerly. “Yes, Your Honor. My uncle and cousin were taken into the King’s Army a little over a week ago. If they’re in Branscombe, they can prove I’m from Barrowden.”

The magistrate glanced at the clerk who was seated beside him. “Have a messenger sent to Captain Levan. He can check the rolls. Mister Cartwright, if you will wait over there, we will come back to you once we’ve heard from the captain.”

Will sat on the bench indicated and watched while his three cell-mates had their own moment in front of the magistrate. It turned out that Sven had been picked up for being out after curfew. His wife had locked him out from coming home drunk. Tiny had simply had the misfortune of trying to buy some staples for his father’s farm. The town constables had decided that given his size he had to be a deserter, but the truth was that the big man had simply been unaware of current events. His father’s farm was rather isolated.

Dave was the only one that Will had no sympathy for. As he had stated, the cutpurse had been caught stealing and then nearly murdered someone when his victim had protested. The magistrate made it clear that under normal circumstances he would have had Dave locked in the stocks for a week and then had him branded as a thief. Given the current state of war, he simply ordered the thief be forced to serve in the King’s Army.

That hardly seemed fair to Will, since it was the same sentence given to both Sven and Tiny, even though neither had committed any real crime. Will had the sense to keep his mouth shut, though. The constabulary might as well be another press gang, thought Will. All they do is round people up and then send them to the army anyway.

It was almost an hour before the messenger returned with a note confirming Will’s identity. Even so, he was surprised when the magistrate told him he was free to go. “You can pick up your weapons at the town gate when you leave, Mister Cartwright. Have a good day.” Finished with his work, the magistrate stood as though he would leave.

Will gaped. “But…”

“Yes, Mister Cartwright?”

“You sentenced everyone else to serve in the army.”

The magistrate gave him a severe look. “I know it may seem as though the local constabulary is simply a—what did you almost call them?—a press gang, but that is not the case. My job is to enforce the law. You have broken none that I am aware of, and your age is below that required to serve in the military, no matter what the king’s agents say when they scour villages for able bodies. If you really do intend to enlist, the minimum age for that is sixteen, but that is entirely your business.”

“Oh,” said Will. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

“A word of advice,” added the magistrate. “Remove the Prophet’s crest from that coat before you show