Lark and Wren

paying less than they should.

'Why is it our responsibility?' she asked fiercely. 'And why ours? I don't see anyone else leaping forward to throw money in the tax and tithe boxes! You and Amber keep saying that, and I don't see any reason for it!'

He just looked at her, somberly, until she flushed. He made her feel as if she had said something incredibly irresponsible, and that made no sense. She didn't know why she should feel embarrassed by her outburst, but she did, and that made her angry as well.

'Rune,' he said slowly, as if he had just figured out that she was serious. 'There truly is a reason for it. Now do you really want to hear the reason, or do you want to be like all those empty-headed fools out there who grumbled about taxes and cheat when they can, and never once think about who or what they're cheating?'

'Well, if there's a reason, I'd certainly like to hear it,' she muttered, skeptically, and sat down in the chair beside his bed. 'Nothing I've seen yet has given me a reason to think differently, and you're the one who taught me to trust my eyes and not just parrot what I've been told!'

'You've lived here for almost half a year,' Tonno replied. 'I know that there's a world of difference between Nolton and your little village; there are things we do here that no one would ever think of doing back in Westhaven.' She made a face, but he continued. 'I know I'm saying something obvious, but because it's obvious, you might not have thought about it. There are things that people take for granted after they've been here as long as you have; things that are invisible, but that we couldn't do without. Dung-sweepers, for instance. Who cleans up the droppings in Westhaven?'

'Well, no one,' she admitted. 'It gets kicked to one side or trodden into the mud, that's about it.'

'But if we did that here, we'd be knee-deep in manure in a week,' Tonno pointed out, and she nodded agreement. 'Who do you think pays the dung-sweepers?'

'I never wondered about it,' she admitted with surprise. 'I thought the dung must be valuable to someone-for composting, or something-'

'It is, and they sell it to farmers, but that's not enough to compensate a man for going about with a barrow all day collecting it,' Tonno pointed out. 'The city pays them-right out of that tax box.' She rubbed her hands together to warm them, about to say something, but he continued. 'Who guards the streets of Westhaven by day or night from robbers, drunks, troublemakers and thieves?'

She laughed, because it was something else that would never have occurred to her old village to worry about. 'No one. Nobody's abroad very late, and if they are, there's no one to trouble them. If a drunk falls on his face in the street, he can lie there until morning.'

But she couldn't keep the laughter from turning uneasy. It might not have occurred to them, but it would have been a good thing if it had. A single constable could have prevented a lot of trouble in the past. If there'd been someone like the city guard or constables around, would those bullies have tried to molest her that day? Even one adult witness would likely have prevented the entire incident. How many times had something like that happened to someone who couldn't defend herself?

Was that how Stara had gotten into trouble in the first place, as a child too young to know better? Was that why she had gone on to trade her favors so cheaply?

If that incident with Jon and his friends hadn't occurred, would Rune have been quite so willing to seek a life out in the wider world?

'That will do for a little village, but what would we do here?' Tonno asked gently. 'There are thousands of people living here; most are honest, but some are not. What's a shopkeeper to do, spend his nights waiting with a dagger in hand?'

'Couldn't people-well-band together, and just have one of them watch for all?' she asked, self-consciously, flushing; knowing it wasn't any kind of a real answer. 'I suppose they could pay him for his troubles-' Then she shook her head. 'That's basically what the constables are, aren't they? That's what you're trying to tell me. And they're paid from taxes too.'

'Constables, dung-sweepers, the folk who repair and maintain the wells and the aqueducts, and a hundred more jobs you'd never think of and likely wouldn't see. Rat-catchers and street-tenders, gate-keepers and judges, gaolers and the men who make certain food sold in the marketplace is what it's said to be.' Tonno leaned forward, earnestly, and she saw that the light was fading.

'I suppose you're right.' She lit a candle at the stove, but he wasn't going to be distracted from his point.

'That's what a government is all about, Rune,' he said, more as if he was pleading with her than as if he was trying to win an argument. 'Taking care of all the things that come up when a great many people live together. And yes, most of those things each of us could do for himself, taking care of his own protection, and his family's, and minding the immediate area around his home and shop-but that would take a great deal of time, and while the expenses would be less, they would come in lumps, and in the way of things, at the worst possible time.' He laughed ruefully, and so did she. It hadn't been that long ago they'd had one of those lump expenses, when the roof sprang a leak and they'd had it patched.

She could see his point-but not his passion. And for something as cold and abstract as a government. 'But you don't like paying taxes either,' she said in protest, and he nodded.

'No, I don't. That's quite true. There are some specific taxes that I think are quite unfair. I pay a year-tax leavened against the shop simply because I own it, rather than renting, and when my father died, I paid a death-tax in order to inherit. I don't think those taxes are particularly fair. But'-he held up his hand to forestall her comments-'those are only two taxes, with a government that could leaven far more taxes than it does. I've heard of cities where they tax money earned, then tax the goods sold, then tax every stage a product goes through as it changes hands-'

She shook her head, baffled. 'I don't understand-' she said. 'How can they do that?'

He explained further. 'Take a cow; it is taxed when it is sold as a weanling, taxed again when it is brought to market, the rawhide is taxed when it comes into the hands of the tanners, taxed again when it goes to the leather-broker, taxed when it is sold to the shoemaker, then taxed a final time when the shoes are sold.'

Her head swam at the thought of all those taxes.

'That kind of taxation is abusive; when the time comes that the price of an object is doubled to pay the taxes