“I, ah, handle problems, I’d guess you’d say.”
“I guess I would. What did he want to recruit me for?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “He never told me.”
I considered whether I believed that. While considering, I said, “Then I suppose you have no idea why he didn’t just ask me himself when we spoke?”
There was a little flicker there as I watched him; a hint of confusion, as if the question puzzled him. That deserved some consideration.
About two seconds’ worth.
“When were you given the job?”
“What job?”
“Of recruiting me.”
He blinked. “I don’t know. Two, three days ago, I guess?”
“And what, exactly, were you told?”
“To recruit you.”
I quickly pulled the dagger from his throat, turned it in my hand, and smacked the side of his face with the hilt; not too hard, but hard enough to leave a little cut on his cheekbone. Before he could react, the blade was back at his throat, pressing almost hard enough to cut. “You’ve been doing so well. Why mess it up?”
He glowered. I waited. He said, “I was told to find out what you were up to.”
I nodded and once more relieved the pressure a bit. “It’s much better when you tell the truth.”
His eyes glinted. “My ma always told me that,” he said. “But when I told the truth, I’d get a whupping.”
I decided I liked him. I hoped I wouldn’t have to kill him.
“And what did you find out that I’m up to?”
“I haven’t come to any conclusions.”
“You’ll let me know when you do?”
“I’ll send it by the post.”
“Is there a good post system in this country?”
“So-so. The county system is good, though. The Guild runs it.”
“Is there anything they don’t run?”
“The Count. Me. Perhaps you.”
“Perhaps?”
His eyes flicked down to my wrist, still holding the knife at his throat, then back to my face. “I shouldn’t presume. Isn’t your arm getting tired?”
“No, I’m fine. What happened to Orbahn?”
“Who? Oh. Him. I’ve no idea. He might be traveling. He travels a lot.”
“Does he work for the Guild?”
“Everyone either works for the Guild, or works for the Count. Everyone.”
“Including the witches?”
“Hmm. I don’t know. I think you need to have lived here all your life to understand how that works. And maybe you still wouldn’t.”
That agreed with my assessment too, but I didn’t say so. “And this business of ‘light’ and ‘dark’ witches?”
“I’ve heard of dark witches. I’m told the Merss family practiced the darker sort. I don’t know if it’s true. And I don’t know what it means. It sounds odd to me. Am I going to get a turn asking questions?”
“Sure, when you’re holding the knife.”
“Speaking of, would you mind taking that thing away from my throat? I get the feeling that if say something that annoys you it might slip.”
“I have to admire your instincts. Keep talking.”
He looked unhappy. He evidently didn’t want to tell me. People seem never to want to tell me the things I want to know. It could get on my nerves, if I let it. I increased the pressure on his neck.
“You must know,” he said, “you made quite, um, an impression when you arrived.”
“Go on,” I said.
“I mean, you immediately found the representative of the Guild and, as I understand it, as much as told him to his face you were going to break up the Guild.”
“Orbahn,” I said.
He nodded. “And then, of course, the Guild put word out to keep an eye on you.”
“Uh huh.”
“And then you started looking for Black Witches.”
Of course I did. Yeah, it even made sense. Sometimes I just assume people are lying, and I try to figure out the motive behind the lie. That’s not that bad, really; only I forget that other people might be doing the same thing to me.
“Right,” I said. “Keep talking.”
“This wasn’t what His Lordship told me, this was just stuff I’ve heard.”
“Yes, I understand. You hear things. Go on.”
“So His Lordship called me in, and said I was to approach you about working with him, but wasn’t to say who he was. I was just to see if you had any interest in working with, ah, an unnamed party in finding out who had killed those witches. He told me—”
“Witches,” I repeated. “It was a family. There were kids. One of them couldn’t have been more than … okay, go on.”
He swallowed and nodded. “He told me that you had been representing them as your family, and were using their name, so that I was to stick with that.”
“Did you ask him what he thought my real name might be?”
He shook his head. “I don’t ask him things. He just—”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Would you say he had an idea of what my name might be?”
He spread his hands. “I have no way of guessing, Lord M … my lord. I’m sorry.”
“Keep calling me Merss. You might as well.”
“Yes, Lord Merss.”
“What else did he tell you? Anything to imply that I might be dangerous?”
He frowned. “Not in so many words, but, well, there was something about the way he talked about you that made me nervous.”
“You know, friend Dahni, this is the strangest town I have ever been in.”
“You need to get out more.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. Who killed them?”
“Who?”
“You know who.”
“The Merss family? I don’t know. The Count doesn’t know. He doesn’t think you did.”
“Yeah, I don’t I think did either.”
“But he isn’t sure.”
“Who is supposed to be finding out?”
“I’m sorry?”
“When something like this happens, when someone is killed, who is supposed to be finding out who did it? Who is responsible?”
“Oh. Ah, the Count, I imagine. Or maybe the King. I’m not sure.”
“And the Count, who would he assign it to?”
“Well, I guess that would be me.”
“You?”
“I guess.”
“And instead, he has you following me around and proposing alliances in the dark.”
“You have to admit, it was dramatic.”
“Not good enough, Dahni. Why there and then?”
“Well, I saw you heading out there. I thought it might give me an edge. I didn’t know about your familiars.”
“Yeah. How long had you been following me, waiting for an opportunity?”
“Not long. A couple of days.”
“A couple of days?”
He nodded.
“Well. Now you’ve hurt my pride.”
“And mine, Boss. I think he may be lying.”
“I always think that, Loiosh. And look where it’s gotten me.”
“You’re still breathing.”
“You really followed me for two days?”
He nodded.
“Mind if I test you on it?”
“Go ahead.”
I asked some questions about where I’d gone and who I’d seen, and he knew most of the answers. I’d rather not dwell on it. It was humiliating.
“All right,” I said when I’d heard enough. “And what conclusions did you come to?”
“My lord?”
“You spent two days following me. What do you think I’m up to?”
He shrugged. “You’re good. I haven’t been able to come to any conclusions.”
“And you told the Count that?”
He nodded.
“And that,” I said, “would have relieved any suspicions he might have had.” Dahni looke
d uncomfortable.
“What if I’d accepted?”
“It was a legitimate offer.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.”
“Is it still on the table?”
“Not if you slit my throat. That’s a deal-breaker.”
“Yeah? Tough bargainer.”
“Not me. It’s the Count. He’s pretty hard-nosed about that sort of thing.” I put the knife away. “All right,” I said. “If he wants to find and—to find whoever killed the Merss family, I’ll help. You know where to find me.”
He rubbed his throat. “In the middle of a field in the dark?”
“I was thinking of the inn, myself.”
“That’ll work.”
“Good. Don’t get up. I’ll let myself out.”
I turned my back on him with complete confidence. And I did have complete confi dence—complete confidence that Loiosh was watching.
“Well, well. We’ve learned something, I think.”
“Seems like, Boss. I’m surprised.”
“I’m slightly stunned myself.”
We made it back to the inn without undue incident. It was busy enough that my entrance wasn’t remarked. My table was occupied, so I got another, feeling unreasonably resentful about it. The lamb stew hadn’t changed, however, and I felt better with a good bowl of it inside of me.
As I scraped up the last bits of stew with good, warm bread (one of my favorite parts of eating stew, and yours too if you have any sense), I ignored the hum of conversation around me and tried to consider what I’d just learned.
A fair bit, really, depending on whether and how much Dahni was telling the truth. I was inclined to believe him on at least a number of points. At any rate, I now understood more of what he was up to. Was he acting on his own? Of course he was; working for Saekeresh, and running a little freelance business on the side. On a certain level, I couldn’t blame him. The question was, what to do about it.
Could I make a good guess on timing? No, not really. At least a day, no matter what. Probably not more than a week. Could be anywhere in that range. Damn, damn, damn.
Yeah, no question, I was going to hurt someone very badly. And I was beginning to get a pretty good idea who it was going to be. In any case, it was best not to mention my latest conclusions to Loiosh, who was already upset at sticking around this place.
He picked up a bit of that thought, I guess. He said, “We should be getting out of here, Boss.”
“I know.”
“We aren’t going to, are we?”
“No. You’ll just have to stay alert.”
“Can we at least get out of this inn?”
“Where would you suggest we go?”
“The other inn?”
“I just told Dahni he could get a message to me here.”
“Boss.”
“Yeah, all right. I’ll see if there are any rooms at the other inn.” Presently I did. Either the wind was blowing the stench elsewhere, or I really was getting used to it, because it was a pleasant walk, from one end of the little town to the other. The place wasn’t too crowded, and the hostess, a delightfully rotund woman of middle years, was pleased to let me a room at reasonable cost. After some consideration, I decided not to tell the host at the Hat that I’d checked out. Loiosh was annoyed because I’d had to consider it. Money changed hands, and a drab little man wearing clothes that were too big for him showed me upstairs.
I got a room with a window that looked out onto the street, and was assured that the Furnace (actually, the “nawp,” but I figured out what she meant) wouldn’t wake me in the morning, even if I forgot to close the shutter. The bed was narrow and too short, but soft and free of wildlife. There was also a washbasin and a chamber pot right in the room, and I was told that if I opened my door and rang that little bell there, someone would come up and bring me hot water in the morning. Could the person also bring me klava? No, but there was coffee, and it would be cheerfully delivered. Yes, coffee would do, with heavy cream and honey, although I said it with a sigh I couldn’t quite repress.
10
FIRST STUDENT (whispering): I believe our hosts are drunk.
SECOND STUDENT (whispering): What should we do?
NURSE: In the first place, stop whispering. It annoys them when they’re passed out.
—Miersen, Six Parts Water
Day One, Act III, Scene 2
I have to give this one to Loiosh: Even if no one was going to hit me in the head if I’d stayed at the Hat, I must have been worried about it, because I relaxed that night and I slept hard and long and until nearly noon. The same drab little guy in almost the same clothing brought me hot water and coffee klava and made no comments about the hours I kept.
Having a kettle of coffee brought up to me was so pleasant it almost made up for it being coffee. I drank it all, staring out at the street watching a couple of dogs chase each other. Eventually I dressed, then went down, and the hostess was there, chatting with a couple of middle-aged gentlemen who had that indefinable something that told you they were from somewhere else. She gave me a gap-toothed smile and said, “Good morning, Lord Merss.”
“Good morning,” I said. I sniffed. Hickory. “Something smells good. Lunch?”
She nodded. “Pig eatin’s. We make ’em like nowhere else.”
“I’ll be back to try them, then.” I touched my forehead with the tips of four fingers and went out and into the day. First thing was to visit the Hat and see if any messages had come in. No, no messages, unless the speculative look from the host was a message about the propriety of spending the night away. If so, I chose to disregard it. The lamb stew smelled good, but my loyalty had shifted. I’m just fickle, I guess.
I went back to the Mouse and had lunch. It was good, though I wouldn’t have used quite so much hickory, myself. But I took my time with it, letting what I’d learned the night before bounce around in my head, trying to decide how much of whom I should believe. I actually felt pretty good. The anger was still there, but I knew that sooner or later—probably sooner—I was going to track down whoever it was that had caused that anger. Things hadn’t come together, but I had enough pieces that eventually I’d see how they fit.
I got another glass of wine—it was a particularly harsh and acidic red that tasted better than it should have—and nursed it while I considered things.
An hour or so of that got me nowhere, so I went back to the Hat, and as I walked through the door, the host looked at me, frowning.
“Message for you,” he said. Obviously, to him there was something very suspicious about me having asked if there were any messages this morning, and then had one delivered in the afternoon. Obviously, I was up to something.
I returned to the Mouse, found an ugly brown chair, and sat. Then I broke the seal, unfolded the heavy pink parchment, and read. It was, unlike the last missive, very simple and straightforward, with no excess words. It suggested I visit His Lordship tomorrow early in the afternoon.
“Looks like we have a deal, Loiosh.”
“Or a trap.”
“Or a trap. Right now, I’ll be happy with a trap. It’ll give me something to break out of. There’s nothing worse than wanting to push and not having anything to push against.”
He started naming things that were worse until I told him to shut up. There’s nothing worse than a smartass who pretends not to understand hyperbole.
The more important question was: Were there any ways to protect myself in case it was a trap? Were there any arrangements worth making?
“Go armed, Boss.”
“Good thinking.”
After a while, I noticed the place had pretty much emptied out. The hostess, whose name was Mahri, came over and poured me another glass of wine and asked if something was troubling me.
“No,” I said. “Just making plans for an errand I need to run tomorrow.”
“Plans?”
I nodded. “So far, I’ve picked the horse I’m going to ride.”
/> “Well, may it prosper you,” she said.
“Indeed.” I passed a coin across the table. “Drink with me to that sentiment.”
She smiled big and nodded, and went behind the bar and poured something golden into a small glass and lifted it to me, drank. I did too. She said, “Well, you think about your plans, then. I won’t disturb you.”
“I appreciate that,” I said.
Usually when people say that, it’s a prelude to an ongoing stream of disturbance, but she was as good as her word, and said nothing while I sat there beating into a headwind, as the Orca say. I wondered if she was the only one in town as good as her word. Which brought up the question of whether she was In On It Too. I didn’t really think so (and, just for the record, no she wasn’t), but it gives you an idea of how my mind was working.
Eventually I sighed and raised my glass for more wine. I couldn’t think of any steps to make this safer; I was just going to have to do it. As she brought the wine, I said, “Do you know a light-haired, freckle-faced foreigner named Dahni?”
She nodded. “He’s been in a few times.”
“Do you trust him?”
She frowned. I had the feeling she was one of those people who trusted everyone, and didn’t understand why one wouldn’t. “I don’t understand.”
I smiled. “He’s made a business proposition to me, and I’m wondering if he’s the sort who can be depended on to be honest in his dealings.”
The question seemed to make her unhappy, like she didn’t want to consider that the answer might be no. “I’m afraid I don’t know him that well,” she said.
“What have you heard?”
“Heard?”
“Gossip? Rumors?”
She looked even more uncomfortable.
“I don’t know as I should say anything.”
“I’d take it as a kindness.”
“It isn’t a kindness to pass on ill-tongue.”
“It would be this time.”
She studied me, squinting through troubled dark brown eyes. “Well,” she said at last, “some say he works for His Lordship, the Count.”
I had the feeling that that, in itself, wasn’t necessarily something she might be reluctant to say about someone, so I just nodded and waited.
“Well some say … you know the Count is an old man.”