by DAVID B. COE
"She's an old witch!" someone else called out. "We'd be better off without her!"
The eldest narrowed his eyes slightly. "All right, let me put it this way. If she does return, which of you wants to explain to her that we took all her possessions for our own?"
That silenced them. Besh struggled to keep the smirk from his lips. Pyav nodded. "That's what I thought. As I told the other elders a moment ago, we'll let you know what we find."
With that, the blacksmith started down the stairs. The crowd parted to make way for him, and Besh and the others followed in his wake. "That was well done, my friend," Besh said under his breath.
The eldest nodded, but he looked troubled. "It put them in their places for this evening, but that won't last long. Let's hope that tomorrow's search turns up something definitive one way or another."
The eldest walked off toward his home, and after a moment the rest of the elders did the same, leaving the villagers whispering among themselves. Besh tried to take some satisfaction in the way the eldest had silenced the crowd, but Pyav's words to him still echoed ominously in his mind.
It was nearly dark when he reached the house, and as he wearily climbed the old wooden stairway, the smell of roasted fowl reached him, reminding Besh that he was famished.
They'd started without him, which was just as it should be; he'd told Elica that the children shouldn't go hungry because of all the foolishness surrounding Old Lici. The younger ones had been giggling about something as he climbed the stairs, but as soon as they saw him in the doorway, they fell silent. Actually all of them did. They just stared at him, as if they thought he might have brought Lici with him.
"I'm sorry I'm late," Besh said, taking his place at the table beside Mihas.
Sirj nodded. "It's all right."
No doubt they were bursting with questions for him, but no one said anything as he helped himself to some meat, greens, and bread.
Finally, Cam, the youngest, looked at his grandfather with wide eyes, and asked, "Did you find her?"
Besh couldn't keep from laughing. "Find her? You mean Lici?"
The boy nodded, but by now the others were laughing as well, and his face began to redden.
"No, Cam," Besh said. "We didn't expect to find her. We don't know where she's gone. We were trying to decide what to do with her house and her belongings."
"And what did you decide?" Elica asked.
The younger ones were laughing still, but Elica and Sirj were watching him closely, as was Mihas.
"Pyav and I will search her house in the morning, just to see if we can find something that will tell us why she left."
"Can I come, Grandfather?" Mihas asked.
He shook his head. "No, Mihas. This is no game, nor is it a hunt for hidden treasure. The eldest and I will be the only ones to enter Lici's home."
The boy looked disappointed, but he nodded and said nothing more.
"And her belongings?" Elica asked.
"Are still hers. Until we know for certain that she's not coming back, nothing will be done with her things."
"Good," Sirj muttered.
"Good?" Besh repeated, turning his way.
The man's face colored, just as his son's had a few moments before. Besh wondered if he'd meant to say it aloud.
Sirj took a breath. "Yes, good. I think all this talk about Old Lici's gold has gone on for too long already. You'd think the rest of them were starving, the way they look toward her little hut. It's all nonsense, if you ask me."
"But, Papa," Mihas said. "If she has half as much as they say she does-"
"It's none of our business how much she has. And even if she has more than the five Sovereigns of the Southlands put together, none of us has any claim to a single coin." He looked at Besh. "Forgive me for saying so, but if it comes to it, and the elders have to do something with her home, whatever gold there is should be used for something the whole village needs. A new well, maybe, or repairs to the lane north of the marketplace."
Besh wasn't certain what to say. None of the elders had thought of this, and yet he knew that Sirj had hit upon the perfect solution to their problem. It occurred to him that he had thought the man an idiot for so long that he'd never stopped to consider the possibility that there was a reason Elica had fallen in love with him.
"I guess that makes no sense, does it?" Sirj said, misinterpreting Besh's silence.
"Actually…" Besh shifted in his chair. He could feel Elica's eyes on him. "Actually, I was just thinking that it makes a great deal of sense. I'll suggest it the next time the elders meet."
Sirj stared at him briefly, perhaps searching for some sign that Besh was mocking him. Seeing none, he nodded again. "My thanks."
"What do you think you'll find in her hut?" Elica asked after some time.
"I couldn't say," Besh told her. "Probably little of any consequence. But we have nothing else, and the people in this village want us to do something, even if they don't know what." He took a bite of bread.
"There was a crowd outside the sanctuary this evening, waiting to hear what we'd decided."
Elica's eyes widened a bit. "A crowd? How many?"
"At least fifty. Pyav handled them well, but I only remember crowds gathering outside our meetings like that three or four times-usually in
times of flood, and once when the pestilence came to Irikston."
"Do they know what you and Pyav intend to do?" Sirj asked.
"We told them, yes."
"Then they'll be there, too. At Lici's house."
Besh knew immediately that he was right about this as well. "What would you do in our position?" he asked, surprising himself as much as Sirj. Well, he thought, grinning inwardly at what he saw on the younger man's face, perhaps not quite as much.
"I don't know," Sirj said quickly. "I didn't mean-"
"I know you didn't," Besh said. "I was asking for your advice. You seem to understand all of this better than I do."
"I doubt that." He ran a hand through his dark hair. "I don't know what I'd do." He glanced at the younger children, who were deep into their own conversation now. "Truth is," he went on, his voice low, "I've been terrified of Lici since I was old enough to walk."
"All of us have been," Elica put in. "I think she wanted it that way." "I'm not afraid of her," Mihas said, sounding so terribly young. "Neither are Keff and Vad."
Elica glared at him. "Then you're fools. Now, if you've finished your supper go fetch some water."
He stood up slowly. "Yes, Mama."
"Two buckets, Mihas. One for the dishes, and one for you and the young ones."
"But, Mama-"
The expression on Elica's face would have frightened Lici herself. The boy wisely fell silent and did as he was told.
Besh finished his meal while Elica and Sirj cleared the rest of the dishes from the table. When he'd finished, he took his pipe outside and smoked a bit while he watched stars emerge in the night sky. After a time he heard footsteps behind him and felt Elica lay a hand on his shoulder.
"Do you remember some time ago when we last talked about Lici?" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "It's been nearly a turn now. I said that she'd be dead soon."
"I remember," he told her. "I also remember saying myself that maybe her death would be for the best."
"Do you think that… that maybe the gods heard us?"
"If the gods heeded what I said to them on matters of life and death, your mother would be sitting by my side." He looked up at her and reached for her hand. "Whatever has become of Lici, it had nothing to do with us. Unless you conjured something without telling me."
She smiled and shook her head, glancing up at the stars. "No." She kissed his cheek. "Good night, Father."
"Good night."
He sat a while longer, waiting for the owl to call. It often did this time of year, usually from up in the hills, its voice carrying down through the village.
"Where are you, Lici," Besh whispered. "Maybe I'm a fool, but I t
hink that if you were dead, I'd know it. So where are you? What is it you're up to?"
He heard no answer, of course, save for a few crickets and the soft gurgle of the wash. Eventually he did hear the owl, although it seemed farther off than usual, its cries thin and mournful, like some wraith summoning the old and infirm to Bian's realm. Besh shivered.
"Do you hear that, Lici? Do you hear the Deceiver's call?"
Standing, he stretched his back and then walked inside. But even after he lay down in his soft bed, Besh couldn't sleep. After a time, he stopped even trying. He merely listened to the owl and stared up into the darkness. And he wondered what he would find in the old woman's hut.
Besh woke up to dark grey clouds that hung low over the hills, faint tendrils of mist nearly brushing the treetops. By the time he dressed, ate breakfast, and checked on his garden, a steady rain had begun to fall. He walked to Pyav's forge and the two of them made their way to the old woman's hut. Despite the rain, the dirt track in front of the but was choked with townspeople. Besh saw many of the same faces he had seen outside the sanctuary the day before, but this crowd was even bigger than the previous evening's had been.
The townspeople said nothing as Besh and the eldest approached the house, and though Pyav eyed them as the two men walked past, he kept silent as well. Besh followed him to the door. There was no lock and so they simply pushed the door open and stepped inside. Besh took care to close the door behind them, and so he had his back to the main room when he heard the eldest give a low whistle.
"Blood and earth!" Pyav muttered.
Besh turned in time to see the eldest tap two fingers against his lips four times-the warding against evil. An instant later, Besh did the same.
The but had been left a mess. Flies buzzed around uncleaned pots of stew and dirty bowls that had grown rank with the passage of so much time. Tattered clothes lay in a pile near the unmade bed, and a washbasin stood half empty in the far corner, a thick grey film floating on the water.
And covering it all, scattered as if they had fallen from the sky in place of rain or snow, were small clippings of willow and rush, cedar bark and vine. They were everywhere, in every corner of the room. In some places they had gathered in small mounds, like drifts of snow on a windy day. A few floated in the basin, others lay on the eating table. The floor, bed, and chairs were all littered with them. They were of different hues, and yet they were all oddly similar. One end of each scrap was untamed, while the other had been cut at a precise angle. Some were as long as a man's finger; others were barely longer than a baby's toe. But all had been sliced at that same angle. A craftswoman as skilled as Lici would never have varied such a thing.
Besh could hardly imagine the frenzy of basketweaving that had created such a sight. She must have worked on the baskets for turn upon turn; it might even have been years. He took a tentative step forward, his foot making a crunching sound, as if he were walking on a forest path covered with dried leaves.
Pyav seemed to start at the sound, as if awakened from some odd trance.
"Are you all right, Eldest?"
"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." He rubbed a hand over his broad face. "From the looks of things I'd say that she was taken against her will."
Besh frowned. "You believe so?"
"You don't? Look at this place."
The old man shook his head slowly. True, the but was in such disrepair that a person could easily draw such a conclusion. But Besh couldn't imagine Lici being made to do anything against her will. On the other hand, he had no trouble imagining that she lived in this sort of filth, like a wild creature of the wood.
"I think maybe she simply lived this way," he finally said.
Pyav started to answer, but then stopped himself. Clearly he didn't know what to believe.
Besh began to walk around the room, as did the eldest, their steps making a good deal of noise.
Besh didn't touch anything, feeling that it wasn't his place to do so. Pyav was a bit bolder, but not much. It almost seemed that they both expected the old witch to walk in the door at any moment.
"I thought she had stopped making baskets," Besh said after some time.
"Clearly not."
"But have you seen her sell any?"
"Not in many years, no."
Besh opened his hands, indicating the room. For all the cuttings strewn about on the floor and furniture, there wasn't a single basket in sight. "Then what has she done with them all?"
Pyav just stared at him. "You think she took them with her," he said at length.
Besh nodded. "In which case, she might have just gone to trade with the Qirsi clans, or to sell them in one of the five sovereignties. She could be coming back."
Pyav looked around again, a look of disgust lingering on his features. "But even if she lived this way from day to day, don't you think she would have taken a bit more care before leaving for so long? At least to clean up her cooking, or to throw out her wash water. Something."
"Certainly you and I would do so, my friend. Most people would. But Lici… she's never been like other people. At least not in all the years I've known her."
The eldest nodded. "You may be right." But Besh could see that his thoughts had already gone in another direction. "You won't approve, Besh, but even knowing that she may be alive, that she could return any day now, I want to search this but a bit more."
"To what end?" Besh asked, doing his best to keep his face and tone neutral.
"For too long, people in this village have been spinning yarns about Lici's treasure. I think it's time we put those stories to rest."
"But what if they're true?"
"Do you really believe they are?"
"I don't know." How many times had Besh said that about Lici in the past few days?
Pyav stood chewing his lip for several moments. "If we find gold," he finally said, "we'll leave it where it is and simply tell everyone that we found nothing. But I fear that eventually those people outside will take matters into their own hands, come in here, and take whatever they can find. And I want to know exactly what's at risk."
"All right," Besh said with a small shrug. He gestured toward the far side of her room, where the bed and washbasin stood. "I'll start over here."
In truth, there weren't many places to look. Lici had little furniture and few belongings of any sort. There was an old wooden chest at the foot of her bed that was covered with scuffs and burn marks, as if it had once stood near a hearth. It had a rusted lock on it, but the lock seemed to have stopped working long ago; Besh had no trouble getting the chest open. Inside he found clothes and a few old bound books that might well have belonged to Sylpa, who used to trade for volumes with the peddlers who came through Kirayde. He found as well several pieces of parchment-letters from the look of them. They were tied together with a yellowed piece of twine; Besh left them as they were.
There was nothing to be found under or behind her bed, and the rest of the floor on this side of the but was bare, save for the basket cuttings.
Pyav was still searching the kitchen area, so Besh stepped into a small storage room at the back of the house. Here he found several bowls and cups, none of them as clean as the dirtiest dish in Elica's kitchen. He also found a few baskets, though all of them looked old, and even had they not, there weren't nearly enough of them to explain all the mess in the front room.
Most of the shelves were empty, and had been for some time, judging by the thick dust that covered them. But in the back corner on the floor he spied an old wooden crate. He walked to it and knelt down, pulling it out from under the shelves and brushing away dust and spiderwebs.
Opening the box, he saw a canvas sack that might once have been used to carry one stone of grain. It was closed and tied at the top with the same yellow twine that had been used to bind the letters. And when Besh lifted it out of the box, it rang with the sound of coins. He started to call out to Pyav, but then he spotted something else. In the box beneath the sack, hidden from view until now, w
as a thick leather-bound volume. Besh put the money sack aside and picked up the book, thumbing through it briefly. It was written in a woman's hand and for a moment he wondered if Lici had kept a daybook as a younger woman. It didn't seem like something she would have done, and the neat writing in the book seemed in such contrast to the state of the woman's home that he found it hard to believe they could belong to the same person. Then again, he hadn't known Lici very well.
He opened to the first entry and saw that the date given was "Fire Moon, year 1119."
1119! Nearly a century ago. This had to have been Sylpa's daybook, not Lici's. He was tempted to begin reading it, right there and then. What a treasure he had found-far more so to his mind than whatever coins jingled in the bag beside him. He could learn so much from this volume about the history of Kirayde, perhaps about his own mother and father.
But wouldn't that have been a violation, as well? Sylpa had left this book in Lici's hands, and for whatever reason, Lici had chosen to keep it private. Reluctantly, Besh returned the journal to the box.
"I found it," he called to Pyay.
A moment later the eldest appeared in the doorway. "Did you really?" Besh held up the sack and shook it.
"Have you opened it?"
"No," Besh said. "It's quite heavy, though. Even if only half of it is gold and the rest silver, I'd say that she's by far the wealthiest person in the village."
"Damn," Pyav said, staring at the sack. "I'd been hoping it wasn't true."
"Do you want to count it?"
The eldest shook his head. "No. The amount is none of our affair. Put it back and let's be done with this place." He glanced over his shoulder. "I keep thinking she's going to walk in on us, and to this day I'm still afraid of the woman."
Besh smiled. "So am I." He put the sack back in the box, and pushed the box back under the shelves. "There was a daybook in that box, too," he said, climbing to his feet stiffly. "I think it might have belonged to Sy1pa."