They poured out of the place like small insects with a predator in the nest—emerging from all the holes, desperate to reach the boats and get away from the place. From what I could see, there was pushing and shoving and maybe a few fights as some were left behind until the return trip. And now there were a few more people—women showing off their ankles—out on the street, walking past me and some of them giving me quick speculative glances. The boats began to arrive, and there were the sounds of talking and laughing and cursing and the tramping of feet. Twenty minutes later, the second boatloads arrived, and this was repeated on a slightly smaller scale, finally falling to silence as the darkness thickened.
Sometime, watch it get dark in a lightless city—preferably somewhere like the East where the Furnace blazes in such plain sight that you can’t bear to look at it. It’s different than in a place with Enclouding, and also different from the country. The shadows of the buildings and the occasional lonely tree gradually get longer and longer until they blend in with other buildings, with other shadows, and with the night itself, and you realize that dark has quite fallen, and you are in a new place, in a town in the night.
Loiosh guided me there, using Rocza’s eyes and giving me directions. Occasionally a bit of light spilled from a house, so I could see my way for a few steps, or sometimes someone would come along swinging a lamp, used by everyone in town with any sense—that is to say, everyone but me. But for the most part Loiosh guided me. The greater part of my effort went into staying quiet; you’d be surprised how much harder it is to stay quiet when you can’t see anything. Or maybe you wouldn’t.
When I reached the house, Loiosh gave his wings a quick flap so I could identify where he was. He usually flies as quietly as an owl, but can make noise if he wants. I asked him about that once and he said owls are stupid, which hadn’t been what I was asking about at all, so I dropped the subject.
He landed on my shoulder. There was a tiny bit of light leaking from a shuttered window.
“What’s the play, Boss?”
“I bash in the door, you and Rocza get in his face, and we improvise from there. You’re pretty sure he’s the only one in the place?”
“No sounds from in there for hours, Boss.”
“All right. Ready?”
“Yeah. I didn’t hear the door lock, by the way.”
“You mean I don’t get to break it down? Damn.”
He was right, the latch lifted easily, and I flung it open. The damned light assaulted my eyes, and I was mostly blind. Loiosh and Rocza flew in and I followed, hoping for the best.
There was a flurry of movement, some cursing, and I squinted hard and got my hands on him; then I had a dagger out and was holding it at the back of his neck. He lashed out and caught me one in the face, then kicked, but I saw that well enough to dodge it. I grabbed him harder and remembered I was dealing with a human, so I shifted the knife to his throat and he obligingly stopped moving. The loudest sound in the room was his breathing. I had the feeling he wasn’t happy.
“Well met, friend Dahni. How are you on this fine evening, with the stars shining and all crickets chirping merrily and night-finches cooing so sweetly?”
He just kept breathing.
My eyes were starting to adjust. I pushed him backward and onto a stuffed chair, keeping pressure on the knife at his throat. He brought his chin up. I could now see that he was glaring, which failed to startle me.
“I will ask questions,” I said. “And you will answer them. If you don’t answer them, I’ll decide you have no value to me. If you do answer them, I’ll let you live. If I later find out you’ve lied to me, I will return. Are we clear on the basics?”
“It was the jhereg,” he said. “They followed me.”
“My familiar has skills which aren’t exactly traditional,” I said.
“It isn’t too late,” he told me. “Walk out the door, and I’ll just forget this happened.”
“Kind of you,” I said. “Now, first of all, who do you work for?”
“You have no idea what you’re—”
I slapped him, hard. “Don’t even start.”
He just sat there, glaring at me.
“No,” I said. “That won’t do. I need an answer. If you don’t answer me, I will kill you. Has your employer earned that kind of loyalty?”
Somewhere, behind his eyes, he was thinking. I gave him some time.
“I work for Count Saekeresh,” he said at last.
I released the pressure on his throat just a little—call it a reward of sorts. “What do you for him?”
“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 looks 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 looked 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 confidence—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 free-lance 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
F I R S T S T U D E N T (whispering): I believe our hosts are drunk.
S E C O N D S T U D E N T (whispering): What should we do?
N U R S E: 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.