Kyr made her way straight to her landlord's study. The Tamda tended to some documentation and letters to connected regents. He was a Baron by the name of Rathur but a miner one. His fiefs were scattered around Evanhearth. She was required by law to be under the charge of the Tamda until fifteen years had passed, at which point she was free to make contracts to tend any of the nobles property.
She did not give him any time to address her. "I'm going to go to Cudsul."
Rathur made to speak, then adjusted his response. "I take it you have been listening to the town cryer."
"I have," Kyr explained abruptly.
"I just so happen to have here the written document of what the cryer was reading. I am sorry, but you do not qualify. Only men are permitted, and it is written very clearly that serfs are not permitted."
"Really, then perhaps you should read it yourself," Rathur tossed the paper toward her. Some of the symbols Kyr had seen before and therefore held up the paper correctly. She had never had a lesson on reading a day in her life. Why would a common lady ever need to learn? There was far too many other important things. During the war, she had only known one man who could read, and that was Peori writing. Rathur reclined in his seat with a smirk on his face; he knew he had her with his lie. And yes, it was a lie. "You have agreed to service me and my house; I see no need to send you to Cudsul."
Kyr became smoldering mad. This wasn't just about legal stuff, it was about belittling her. Because she wanted it made it enjoyable to deny it.
"Dymar tien..."--"You will tremble if we fight."-- The Peori tongue was uttered in a calm and calculating way. Rathur was ignorant of that, but there was punishment in store. His switch came down hard on her ear sending a stinging welt. He had the rod of discipline ready for use at a moment's notice. This was administered for speaking her native tongue. He stood and flicked the switch back upon his shoulder. "Well, being as you are such an honest sort, I will go find another noble who got your same letter and reassure that you are accurate in your translation."
"That won't be necessary," Rathur acted as if he was not cornered, "I merely wished to… observe your ingenuity. It is going to be a dangerous game you seek, young lady. But one may wonder… what sort of services you could possibly offer. It isn't as if you were a combatant in the annexation of your lands. It would be unfortunate if those thumbs of yours be misplaced by a torturer's knife."
It was another lie. She knew her rites, and now in the capital sneaking digits off of surfs (while in the power of the Baron) was also against royal decree since the terms of surrender asked for the pardon of all involved in the conflict and that loyalty to the clan be observed as loyalty to the crown.