by Steven Brust
"There was a great battle between the Count and the Baron, and in the end the Count dragged him down to Hell."
"Where is Hell, exactly? I've often wondered."
He looked at me to see if I were mocking him, which I was, but I felt bad about it so I kept my face straight and looked sincere.
"Under the ground," he finally said.
"It must have been some battle."
He nodded eagerly, as if he'd been there. "The Baron summoned demons and devils, and all the witches of light gathered together to banish them."
I made a noncommittal sound, wondering if there were any shades of truth anywhere in it. "This must have been a long time ago."
"Oh, yes. It was in my great-great-grandfather's time."
Of course it was.
"I see. That must have been about the time the paper mill was opening."
He nodded. "I think so. It was the Count who opened the mill, you know. My brother and my uncle work there."
"The old Count. Back then. Not the same man."
"Oh, no! He'd be over a hundred years old."
I nodded. "His grandson, then?"
He frowned. "I think so." I guess he wasn't used to keeping track of progressions of his overlords.
"So then, there was a great battle of good magic and evil magic and the brave Count banished the foul Baron and took over his holdings and opened a paper mill and all was well."
"Um, I guess so."
By this time I was back on the bed, but my mind was working so hard I hardly noticed my body. "Who would know the details about this?"
"Details, Lord Merss?"
"Yes. Your story interests me. I'd like to learn more. The names of everyone involved on both sides, and how the battle was fought, all of it. Perhaps I'll write a history."
He looked awestruck. "A history? You'll really write a history?"
"I might. But to do that, I need to know someone who knows all about it. Who would that be?"
"Father Noij."
"Right. Of course. Father Noij. Would you be good enough to ask Father Noij to come and visit me when he gets the chance?"
"All right, I will!" he said. I think he was excited to be part of someone writing a history.
"Don't tell him what it's about. I'd rather introduce the subject myself."
He nodded enthusiastically and dashed off, leaving me to my contemplations. I didn't have time for a lot of them before he returned, somewhat breathless and beaming. "He said he'll stop by this evening."
"Good," I said, and realized that I was now, without effort, speaking in an almost normal tone of voice. I was getting better. Perhaps in a year or two I'd even be able to walk.
I'm going to stop mentioning being hit with waves of frustration, or misery, or anger. You can just figure that they happened, one after the other, quicker or longer, weaker or stronger, and plug them in where you want to. They don't matter. When you have to do something, it doesn't matter how you feel when doing it, it matters that you do it.
"So, Meehayi, how is it you were picked for this?"
"For what, Lord Merss?"
"For taking care of me. Why you?"
"Oh. I don't know. I'm strong, I guess that's why."
"You are that."
"And I think he wanted someone stupid, too."
"Stupid," I repeated stupidly.
"Well, I'm strong, so they think I must be stupid."
"Ah," I said. "I see. Yes."
He flashed me a grin. "Oh, I know. You think I'm stupid too. That's all right, I don't mind." He frowned suddenly. "Maybe not minding is why I was picked, come to think of it."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I didn't say anything. He gave me a little bow and said, "Ring the bell if you need anything, Lord Merss."
"Call me Vlad," I said. When he was gone, I watched the ceiling for a while to see if it would do anything interesting. It didn't.
Loiosh reported in that he had nothing to report, and then I slept some, and then ate some more bread and broth; this time I was given more brandy with it, for which I was disgustingly grateful. There came a sort of tap at the door, and evidently I said "Come in" loud enough, because the door opened and there was Father Noij. He came in, and lost his smile when he saw me.
"Oh," he said. "I didn't know." For no reason I can place, he suddenly reminded me of Noish-pa. I told myself sternly not to rely on that feeling.
"Sit down," I told him. He did, looking at me. I couldn't identify all the emotions that passed over his face, but he was, at least, upset. That could mean anything.
He sat down and folded his hands in his lap. "What is it you wish of me, Lord Merss?"
"You talk, I listen."
"Talk about..."
"History, Father. Not so ancient history."
"History of—?"
"When a Count and a Baron went to war over whether peasants would be working land, or working in a paper mill."
His eyebrows went up. "You would seem to know a great deal about it already."
"You mean, more than those who believe stories of demons being summoned, and the ultimate war of good and evil, and barons who bathe in the blood of virgins?"
"Well, yes." He smiled a little. "Didn't quite buy that, eh?"
"I don't believe in virgins."
"Yes, I guess that is a bit hard to take, isn't it?"
"So, what really happened?"
"You have most of it."
"What's the rest, Father Noij?"
"Well, no demons were summoned."
"Yes, I'd suspected that."
"It's pretty simple. Old Saekeresh—the grandfather of the current Count Saekeresh— found a process for making paper and wanted to open a mill."
"Go on."
"In order to work, it needed to be run on a large scale. That meant he had to find workers for it, not to mention loggers. Lots and lots of loggers. We call them favagoti."
"All right."
"So he moved to this area, because—"
"Wait. Moved here? From where?"
"I'm not sure exactly. Back East somewhere."
"All right."
"He moved because there was the river right here, and the forest."
"Yes. Though I'm surprised the forest is still left."
"Old Saekeresh was something of a witch, and, as I understand it, very concerned about preserving nature. He made sure new trees were planted as he cut the old ones down."
"I see. How noble of him."
He shrugged. "So he came here, and, well, made his preparations, then in the course of a week he had slaughtered Baron Neeyali and all of his people."
"All of them?"
"Nearly."
I said, "A few witches who were loyal to the old Baron escaped."
He nodded.
"Most of the survivors left," I said. "Why not the others?"
"Your family."
"Yes."
"I don't know exactly. I know old Saabo was—"
"Saabo?"
"That was what the family was called, then. I know he had a small piece of land that he wanted to keep. I think he looked at it as one, ah, one . . ."
"Bastard?"
Nodded. ". . . had replaced another, and so three of his sons went to work in the mill. The oldest agreed with him enough to change his name. I guess he was thinking to leave the past behind."
"So, the old Baron, as you call him, was no one especially deserving of loyalty?"
He spread his hands. "I've heard nothing about him to say he was better or worse than any others of his kind."
I nodded. "What of the other sons? Are there more Saabos in the area?"
"There is one family, yes."
"And I imagine they'd just as soon I stayed far away from them."
He looked down. "I don't think they are aware of you, Lord Merss. It has been several generations. They know they are related in some way to the family who was, that is, to those who were, ah—"
"Slaughtered," I said.
&
nbsp; "Yes. Miki mentioned it to me. He said, 'Father, did you know we were related to the Merss family? A terrible thing, that was.'" He spread his hands. It seemed to be a favorite gesture. "They do not understand."
"And you didn't enlighten them, of course."
"No. They are simple people."
"Yes. Like Meehayi."
He nodded. I guess he wasn't good with irony.
"So then," I said, "it was less a war than, what was the word you used? A slaughter."
He cleared his throat. "You must understand, I have the journals of my predecessor, and his, and his, as my successor will have mine. I read them because I wished to understand how this town—"
"Speaking of, when was the name of the town changed? It has to have been after the mill opened."
"Yes. The son of old Saekeresh changed the name when he inherited the property. He inherited it, changed the name, and moved back East. That was a hard time for people here. There was no law, there was no—"
"The Guild," I said. "That's when the Guild began to run things, isn't it?"
He nodded. "Someone had to."
"Speaking of running things, what of the King?"
"Excuse me?"
"Back in the day of the great slaughter. The King did nothing?"
"No. I don't know why. I've heard it said that the King was weak then, and old, and concerned with his own troubles."
I nodded. There have been Emperors like that too, I've been told.
"And all of this talk about witches of the dark and the light, that's just—what?"
"Nonsense, really."
"Yeah, I knew that much. But where did it come from?"
"I'm not sure. There were some witches who were killed by old Saekeresh. I guess, in part, there had to be a story about it, and in part it just grew on its own."
I shook my head. "There's more to it than that," I said.
"You mean the Guild?"
"Yes."
"I don't think they invented it; I doubt they even deliberately encourage it."
"But?"
"It suits their purposes to have the foolish and ignorant believe such things."
His talk about the foolish and ignorant was beginning to annoy me. He was sounding like me, and only Loiosh gets to sound like me. No, it wasn't that—there was an air about him as if he and I were in some sort of elite club that was above the commoner. And he wasn't elite enough to be in my club.
"What purpose is that?"
"The Guild—the leaders of the Guild, I mean, Chayoor and his lieutenants—they like to keep things, I don't know, peaceful. They don't like to see conflict."
"What conflict in particular are they trying to avoid?"
"Well, with Count Saekeresh, of course."
"I'm missing something here," I said. "Why would there be conflict with Saekeresh?" He seemed a little uncomfortable with my referring to the Count without honorific. That pleased me and I resolved to do it more.
"The interests of the Guild and those of His Lordship don't always line up, you know. The Guild likes prices high, the Count likes them low. The Guild wants easy trade with the rest of the country; the Count wants things kept locally. It is in everyone's interest for the conflict to be contained. You see—" He paused a moment, looking for the right words, I guess. "We have a kind of balance here. There is the Guild and His Lordship, of course. And the mill workers and favagoti, and the peasants who work the land."
"Feeding the others."
"Exactly. And the others provide the peasants with a sort of income. But if one faction becomes restless, or discontent, it throws everything off, do you see?"
"Yes, I see. So, that's why the story?"
"What story?"
"The stuff about virgins and demons and—"
"That does happen, you know. There is evil—pure evil—in the world. And sick people, who may act evil."
"All right. But you didn't answer my question."
"I'm not—"
"Why make up all that nonsense?"
"It wasn't made up, exactly. And, to be sure, I didn't have any hand in it. I am a priest of Verra, not a storyteller. It's just that some parts of what happened have been emphasized over the years, deemphasizing others. The peasants themselves make up or add to the stories."
"And you do nothing to discourage them, or to set them straight."
He shrugged. "I suppose that's true."
"Why don't you?"
"You know peasants."
I remembered a Teckla I'd recently met and said, "Not as much as I'd thought. What about them?"
"You just don't want them knowing, understanding how things work. It doesn't make them any happier, you know."
"Um. Okay. Does that work? Making up wild yarns just to keep them confused?"
"For a while."
"And after that?"
"With any luck, it'll be after I'm gone."
"Um. So, why?"
"Mmm?"
"What do you get out of it?"
"It permits me to take care of my people, to see to their needs."
"Lying to them?"
"Sometimes, yes. If I didn't, I'd be gone, and there would be someone here who wouldn't care about them."
"All right."
"Do not presume to judge me, Merss Vladimir."
I let that go. It was pointless. Talking to him any more was pointless, for that matter; I had things to do that were more important, like eating watery broth. Although, as he was leaving, I couldn't resist asking if he had ever actually had contact with the Demon Goddess.
He hesitated, frowned, and said, "Not that I've ever been certain of."
"She's a bitch," I told him.
He hurried away and I thought over what I'd learned. Not about him—that wasn't worth considering. But about the background to this place, and how it fit into the things I knew and the things I still didn't. I realized that it had gotten late and told Loiosh he may as well give it up for the night. When he got back, I filled him in on my conversation with Father Noij. He had a few choice comments about the character of those who chose to serve my Demon Goddess. I could have pointed out that I was in no position to talk, but I agreed with him so I didn't.
"Does it give us anything, Boss?"
"Not instantly. Maybe after I've got the rest of the picture."
The next time Meehayi came in he was wearing a big smile and had a steaming bowl of something that wasn't broth. In fact, it was the Mouse's version of lamb stew, only for me they prepared it without meat, potatoes, or much of anything else, but it was stew rather than broth and it came with bread and a small glass of wine and it was one of the best meals I've ever had.
While I ate, he asked about my conversation with Father Noij. I tried to answer in grunts, but he wasn't having any. He was so excited about the whole thing it was as painful as—no it wasn't, but it was painful. I finally said, "Look, a lot of what you've thought was wrong, all right? It wasn't an evil Baron and a noble Count; there was no bathing in the blood of virgins or demon summoning or heroic battles. It was two bastards who wanted the same thing and went for each other's throats. Everything after that was made up to justify how it came out. Ask Father Noij. And tell me what he says, because I'm curious about whether he'll give you the same answers he gave me."
That last was unkind and Meehayi looked unhappy so I asked him if there were any girls he had his eye on and yeah there was and when he got over blushing that took over the conversation and he left feeling better.
See, I'm not such a bad guy. Really.
That night, I slept better than I had since I'd gotten out, only waking up three or four times and then falling asleep again right away; and the worst dream was the old one of being pursued by something I couldn't define. Big improvement. I was ready to take on the world, as long as the world was a bit of lamb stew.
Aybrahmis was back with one witch—the youngest of the lot—in the morning, and we went through what was becoming a ritual. He tsked and shook his head and looked genera
lly worried and unhappy and told me I was doing fine. The witch removed my dressings and had a whispered conversation with the physicker; nice to see they were working together. Then he replaced my dressings and announced that the burns seemed to be "responding to treatment," which made it sound like they were getting better, only if they were why didn't he say so? The physicker was pleased that I'd been able to feed myself, though he cautioned me against over-exertion, which for some reason I found funny.
I asked if I could try walking soon and he looked at me like I had brain fever. I didn't think that was funny.
When they'd gone, Loiosh continued the cheerful conversation. "By now, the Jhereg has to know Mahket is dead, and someone else has to be on the way. If they use one of those professional teleport places, that knows everywhere, he could be here in a day or two."
"Yeah, okay. Does this information come with a suggestion?"
"The Count would probably arrange for you to be moved some' where safe."
"Does it come with another suggestion?"
"Boss, I wanted to get out of here before. I was right wasn't I?"
"Yes."
"Well, I want to get out of here again."
"Good thing you've used up your yearly allotment of being right."
"Boss—"
"Otherwise, I might be a bit concerned."
"Boss—"
"Leave it be."
"All right, then." He said it the way I'd say, "I'll take the brown ones, then," if they were out of the black ones. And I'd really had my heart set on the black ones.
I sighed. It wasn't as if I could blame him.
"This has been tough for us both, Loiosh. And we have a long way to go. Accept that I'm in this, and you're in it with me, and let's do the best we can from there."
There was a bit of a pause, and then he said, "All right, Boss. One way or another, we see it through"
"Thanks.”
"Back to trying to pick up Orbahn?"
"Yes. This time with Rocza so you can watch his house at the same time."
"Boss—okay"
Meehayi came and went, taking care of things, none of which are worth talking about. I ate a little more, and maybe wasn't quite as tired afterward; or maybe I just didn't want to be and convinced myself I wasn't. It's hard to judge these things.
I was just finishing lunch when Loiosh said, "Found him, Boss! Leaving the Guild hall."
"Good. Now, let's see what happens."