by David Drake
"She'll live," Winora said. Her face was bleak, her tone emotionless.
Winora regarded this as failure on her part. "She'll probably limp for the rest of her life, but we may be lucky." Ilna nodded. "Worse things happen in this world," she said. It wasn't Winora's fault. It was the fault of Ilna os-Kenset, who'd created a situation which allowed a child to be injured instead of being protected as was supposed to have happened. Worse things happened, as she'd said. She'd done far worse things herself. But thisparticular thing wouldn't happen again. "There were other instances of Master Heismat hitting the kit," Winora said.
"They weren't as serious, and I didn't learn about them until after this event. I'm sorry, mistress. I wasn't watching as closely as I should have done." "People make mistakes," Ilna said quietly, her eyes on Heismat; he fidgeted under the cold appraisal. She thought, At least you're aware of that it was a mistake. If Winora had said the wrong thing-and it wouldn't have had to be very wrong, because Ilna was extremely angry-she'd have been next in line as soon as Ilna was done with Heismat. "Mistress, please," Carisa said, mumbling into her kerchief wadded in both hands. "Heismat's a good man, only the cats killed his whole family. Please, mistress." The rhythmicching! ching! of iron on stone sounded from the courtyard. A mason was carving letters and embellishments for the lintel with strokes of a narrow-bladed adze. Ilna had been angry to learn that money was being spent on what she considered needless ornamentation when a painted sign would do. She'd checked her facts before she acted, though; someone who got as angry as Ilna did learned to check the facts before acting. Lady Liane bos-Benliman, the fiancee of Prince Garric and, less publicly, the kingdom's spymaster, had ordered the carving. Liane was paying for the job from her own funds. Ilna still thought the carving was an unnecessary expense, but she'd learned a long time ago that what she thought and what the world thought were likely to be very different. And Ilna also knew that she made mistakes. Sometimes it felt like she made only mistakes, though of course that wasn't true anyplace but in Ilna's heart. She'd thanked Liane for her generosity.
"Mistress," said Heismat, glaring at his hands. "I didn't mean it, only I come home and there the beast-" "Cloohe, mistress!" said Bovea.
"Little Cloohe, and it's my fault, I'd shut her up when we saw it was getting on and Heismat wasn't home yet, but she must've slipped out while I was dozing." "I seen the, the cat, and I thunk of my own three that the cats kilt and I couldn't stop myself, mistress," Heismat said brokenly toward his knotted fists. "I'd drunk a bit much. Iknowed I shoulda kept away, but I wanted to see Carisa and, and I didn't think.
I seed the, the kit, and I just flew hot." "Mistress, it was the drink," Carisa said. "It's my own fault not to keep Cloohe locked up better when it got so late and Heismat not back." "I've already split the women up and put them with stronger partners, mistress," Winora said in the same dry tone as before. "They're among the best caretakers we have. Though of course I've warned them that you may choose to dismiss or otherwise punish them." Ilna shrugged. "I'm concerned with preventing a recurrence," she said, "not vengeance. I tried vengeance long enough to determine that it wasn't a satisfactory answer." How many of the Coerli did I kill after they'd slaughtered Chalcus and Merota? Many, certainly. More than even Merota, who counted any number you pleased without using tellers, could've kept track of. Ilna smiled. Bovea, who happened to be looking at her, stifled a scream with her knuckles. "Mistress, I'm sorry," Heismat said, stumbling over the words in his fear. "I swear by the Lady it'll never happen again. Never! " "It were just the drink, mistress,"
Carisa pleaded. "He's agood man." Ilna looked at the girl; without expression, she'd have said, but from the way Carisa cringed back there must've been something after all. "As men go," Ilna said quietly, "as human beings go, I suppose you're right. Though I'm angry enough as it is, so I don't see what you think to gain by emphasizing the fact." Carisa blinked. Her hand was over her mouth. "Mistress, I don't understand?" she mumbled. Ilna grimaced. There weresheep with more intelligence than this girl-who was Ilna's age or older in actual years. Still, Carisa was a good mother to orphans, which is more than Ilna herself could say. While Ilna was caring for Merota, a catman with a stone mace had dashed the child's brains out. "Master Heismat, look at me," Ilna said. Heismat's face twitched into a rictus. His eyes slanted to Ilna's left, then above her; he knuckled his balled fists. "Master Heismat," Ilna said. She didn't raise her voice, but her anger sang like a good sword vibrating. "I'm offering you an alternative to being hanged and your body dumped in a rubbish tip, but I assure you that Iwill go the other way if you don't cooperate."
"Mistress, I'm sorry," the laborer said. Tears were dribbling into his sandy beard and the rank stain darkening his gray pantaloons showed that he'd lost control of his bladder, but he was looking directly at Ilna as she'd demanded. "It'll never happen again, Iswear!" Ilna raised the pattern she'd knotted. It was quite a subtle piece of work, though no one else in the world would've understood that. Her patterns generally affected everyone who looked at them. That was true here as well, but only Heismat had thebackground to be affected. His memories were the nether millstone against which Ilna's fabric would grind out misery and horror. She smiled because she wasvery angry, then folded the pattern into itself and placed it in her left sleeve. She'd pick the knots out shortly. "All right," Ilna said, rising. "Mistress Winora, you'll have business to go over with the nurses." She looked at Heismat, who was blinking in surprise. "Master Heismat," she said, "you're free to go also." She considered adding, "And I hope I never see you again," but that would've been pointless and Ilna tried to avoid pointless behavior. Given that all existence struck her as fairly pointless, the whole business was probably an exercise in self-delusion, another thing that she'd have said she tried to avoid.
The train of thought made her smile. "But what happened?" Bovea said.
Heismat and Carisa were keeping silent, probably stunned by what they thought was their good luck. "Nothing happened, did it?" "Bovea, be silent!" Winora snapped as she stepped aside from the door. "You're in trouble enough already, girl." Ilna stopped and looked back. "Nothing happened unless Master Heismat takes a drink," she said, "which he's promised not to do. If he goes back on his word, he'll experience the slaughter of his family through the eyes of one of the Corl hunters involved. Every time he takes a drink." "But…," said Carisa.
Heismat simply sat with his mouth open. "A drink? You don't mean he can't have a mug of ale? Mistress, the water's not safe in Pandah with all the people coming in and the wells so shallow!" "I mean any drink," Ilna said. "Anything with alcohol in it. As for the water in Pandah, I quite agree. Your friend can find a place where the water's safer, I suppose." She smiled. "Or he can die," she added, eyeing the laborer critically. He stared back at her as blankly as a landed fish.
"We all die eventually, and there's nothing in Master Heismat's behavior that makes me wish he was an exception." Carisa lifted her apron and began sobbing into it. Ilna touched the latch lever to open the door; Winora put out her hand. "Mistress?" Ilna said sharply. She didn't mean the anger; not exactly, at any rate. She very much wanted to be shut of this affair, and Winora was prolonging it. "Mistress, do you wish me to continue in my position?" the older woman said. She met Ilna's eyes, but she was obviously frightened. She's terrified! "Yes," said Ilna. Am I as terrible as that? "You caught the business as quickly as reasonably could be done." She felt her lips lift in a cold smile again. Ilnawas that terrible, of course; but not to this woman whose only mistake was that she hadn't been perfect, that she hadn't foreseenall the things that could go wrong. A Corl kit had been crippled; worse had happened to a child named Merota because of Ilna's own mistakes. "And you told me at once instead of trying to hide it," she added. "That was wise." "Thank you, mistress," Winora said, shuddering in relief. She glanced over her shoulder, drawing Ilna's attention also. Heismat had his arms around Carisa and was trying to murmur reassurance to the blubbering girl. He probablywas a good man, as humans
judged such things. "It would have been a mercy to have killed him instead," Winora said without emphasis. "Yes," said Ilna.
"But this way he's a better example to others." She opened the door.
Gilla, Mistress Winora's chief assistant, was standing in the hall with her back to the panel. When it opened she jumped aside and said, rattling the words out all together,
"Mistress-Ilna-this-gentleman's-come-to-see-you! I told him you'd said not to be disturbed and you wouldn't be, not while I had life and breath!" "Thank you, Gilla," Ilna said. From the way the plump woman was wheezing, she had very little breath left. Ilna felt a touch of real amusement that didn't reach her lips. Still, it lightened her mood. "Lord Zettin? As a matter of fact, I was hoping to see you today. Can we speak for a moment further after you've finished your business?" "Mistress," said Zettin, "it's your business that brings me here. I was furious when I learned that my staff had turned you away!
Is there some place we can get privacy?" He looked around. Faces ranging from infants to that of the aged charwoman ducked away from his angry glance. The building served not only as the foundation's office but as a temporary barracks for orphans who hadn't yet been assigned to a pair of nurses in the community. A high nobleman like Lord Zettin would've been an object of wonder even if he hadn't been wearing a dazzling parcel-gilt cuirass. "My business doesn't require secrecy," Ilna said, feeling her lips pinch over the words. It offended her that anybody might even think she was trying to hide something. "But we can sit in the garden, and I'm sure-" She looked at-glared at, she supposed-Gilla. "-that Mistress Gilla will see that we're not disturbed." "Yes, mistress!" Gilla said. "Whatever mistress says! Ah, would mistress and her guest like some refreshment while you confer?" "That won't be necessary," Ilna said firmly, leading her visitor through a reception hall in which six female clerks now worked on the foundation's accounts. In truth her mouth was dry from anger at Heismat, but she didn't want servants interrupting her with carafes and tumblers. This wouldn't take long. She didn't bother asking what Zettin wanted. Ifhe was thirsty, he could wait the length of a brief discussion also. Lord Zettin was thirty-one or two, quite young for someone in so senior a position. Before the Change, he'd commanded the fleet and the phalanx of pikemen which the oarsmen formed after their ships were drawn up on the beach. He'd gotten the job not only because he was keen and clever-which he was-but because Ornifal's wealthy nobility considered the position a lowly one. Ithad been lowly when Dukes of Ornifal claimed to be Kings of the Isles but had little control beyond the shores of their island. When Garric became Prince Garric and the real ruler, the fleet and phalanx became important-and Admiral Zettin showed himself to be skilled as well as clever. The Inner Sea became a continent at the Change and grounded the fleet.
Zettin now commanded the kingdom's new scouting forces, another job that established officers didn't want. The scouts were a mixture of hunters, shepherds, and catmen; they moved fast in small units which didn't bother with the baggage train of the regular army. From the scraps of conversation Ilna had heard from Garric, Liane and Sharina, Zettin was again doing very well. The house Ilna had taken for her foundation came with a courtyard garden. It had been not only ill-tended but awash in garbage-its most recent occupants had been renegade Coerli, and their immediate predecessors were bands of human pirates. So far as Ilna was concerned the courtyard could've stayed a wasteland, though of course the garbage had to go. Members of the new staff had made it a priority, though, and the orphans seemed to have thrown themselves into the work. In less than a month the apple trees and the cypress had been pruned, and the planting beds were bright with zinnias, tiny blue asters, and even a late-blooming cardoon. The flowers must've been transplanted; they certainly couldn't have grown so fast from seeds. Ilna sat on one of the two stone benches framing a small round table. She deliberately chose the seat in the sunlight rather than that shaded by the cypress. Her fingers were picking out and reforming the pattern they'd knotted for Heismat. She didn't need to be able to strike Zettin with despair or paralyzing fear, but she could. So long as she was in the sunlight, he was certain to see whatever she lifted before his eyes. "I apologize for my staff, Mistress Ilna," Zettin said, sitting straight up on the opposite bench. A good thing he isn'tin the sun; that breastplate would be blinding. "They didn't realize who you were and mistakenly thought that they shouldn't interrupt the morning briefing." Ilna opened her mouth. Before she could get a word out, he continued, "Mistress, I know I've seemed to be arrogant and not to, well, show the courtesy I should. But please believe me, I've always had the kingdom's interests at heart. If I push hard and don't always listen as well as I might, that's the cause. Believe me, I never would've allowed you to be turned away!" Ilna frowned, not at what the nobleman was saying but because he was saying it to her. He thinks he's offended me. That was reasonable; he must by now be used to his pushiness offending people.
Whatwasn't reasonable was Zettin bothering to apologize, as though she was powerful enough to hurt him. "I stopped by on my way here," Ilna said. "I asked for you personally because you're the only person I know in the scouts. I have a favor to ask-" "Anything, mistress!"
Zettin said. "Anything in my power. Just ask!" "I was trying to," Ilna said, glaring at Zettin. He was a slim, good looking man who was careful of his appearance; his dark-blond hair and moustache were neatly trimmed, and there were no smudges on his armor. Zettin's mouth worked on a sour thought. He brushed his left hand over his face and said, "Mistress, my apologies. Again." She paused, suddenly struck by a vision of the Ilna os-Kenset which this nobleman saw. Shewas powerful. A word to her childhood friends Garric or Sharina would send Lord Zettin off to command a garrison regiment or as envoy to a distant, minor court. Ilna wouldn't do that, of course; she hadn't been angry, and politics disgusted her anyway. If shehad felt a need to punish the man, she'd have done it directly as she'd done to others in the past. Quite a few others, now that she considered the matter.
"Yes," Ilna said. "During my travels immediately after the Change, a pair of former hunters named Asion and Karpos helped me. They're here in Pandah, but they're uncomfortable in cities." She smiled wryly at herself. "They're even more uncomfortable than I am," she said.
"They'll take reasonable orders. They wouldn't make good soldiers-"
That was a mild a way of putting it; Ilna grimaced. In fact it was mild enough to be a lie if you looked at it closely, and Ilna hated lies. "-but I think they'd be useful as scouts for you. They…"
She paused again and swallowed. She suddenly found herself choking on emotion, an unexpected circumstance and a very uncommon one besides.
"Asion and Karpos," she resumed forcefully, "earned my respect and gratitude. I suppose you take courage for granted, but they also showed cool heads and great skill many times. I'd like them to be in a good situation." Zettin nodded crisply. "Yes, of course," he said. His eyes drifted toward bees buzzing about the calendula, then met hers again. In a sharper tone he went on, "Can they work with Coerli?"
"Yes, that won't be a problem," Ilna said. "I'll tell them to dispose of the cat-scalp capes they made while they were with me." Zettin barked a laugh, then looked shocked. He muttered, "Sorry, mistress, I didn't mean to laugh…" He stopped. "Iintended it as a joke,"
Ilna said tartly. "It's true, of course, but Asion and Karpos have too much judgment for me to need to tell them that." "It would've been all right," Zettin said, the cool professional again. "The Scouting Corps has all-human units-and all-Coerli units too, for that matter. But the mixed units get better results, and it's one less thing to worry about when assigning billets." He cleared his throat. "Ah, mistress?" he went on. "You won't be needing the men's services again yourself?
Because I can see to it that they're stationed near Pandah if you'd like." Ilna shook her head. "I don't know how long I'll be here," she said. "I've already stayed much longer than I cared to." She heard the bitterness in her voice and scowled; she was showing weakness. "I don't know what I'll
be doing in the future," she said, keeping her tone neutral. "Dying, I suppose, but before then…" She spread her hands, palms up. "Well, no doubt something will appear." Zettin appeared for a moment to be glaring at the cardoon's purple face. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on the bench beside him, then turned to Ilna with a look of resolution. "Mistress," he said firmly.
"I'm about to bring up a personal problem, nothing whatever to do with the business of the kingdom. The only reason I dare to mention it is that you implied that you want to get out of Pandah?" "Go on," Ilna said. Her fingers were taking apart the pattern they'd knotted; when she'd reduced it to loose yarn, she'd again recast it. Weaving gave her something to do while she listened… "My sister Zussa has married into a wealthy family, but they're in trade," Zettin said. "I want to be very clear about that." Ilna sniffed. "I suppose my family was in trade also," she said, "before my father, mine and Cashel's, drank up his share of the family mill. Please get to the point, Master Zettin." Shewould not call him or any man "Lord." "When her father-in-law died last year," Zettin said, smiling faintly, "her husband Hervir took over the family's spice importing business. The firm was based in Valles, but after the Change Hervir put in motion plans to move it to Pandah. He's, ah, quite a forward-looking young man." Also, he's smart enough to take advice from a well connected brother-in-law, Ilna thought. Zettin had noticed the deliberate slight of "Master," and had been amused by it. Before this conversation she would've said she didn't care for Zettin particularly, putting him in the same category as all but a handful of the people she knew. To Ilna's surprise, the fellow was edging toward that select handful.