by Amy Keeley
Zhiv said nothing for several moments. “I have a possible solution, if you’re willing to hear it.”
“You have a house I can clean?”
“In a sense.”
“I’m still married.”
“I noticed.”
“Has Byor told you anything?” she asked, catching herself before she completely turned her head to look at him. “When I told the old woman at the service my husband’s name, she stared at me.”
Zhiv sighed. “I would really prefer it if you heard me out first.”
“Why? So I can—” and again, she caught herself. His plan likely involved illegal magics and mentioning that was very unwise in a city full of Dogs who could execute her for that confession.
“It would be a beneficial arrangement for all involved.”
“Including you.” He didn’t answer, and she didn’t feel she could risk a glance. She sighed. “Where do you wish to meet?”
“Go to the forest first. Take a look at what it offers. Then ask for the house of Jixsin, the locksmith.”
Now she did look at him, eyes wide. He still looked straight ahead, calm and untroubled and obviously unaware of her presence. She could have been anyone sitting next to him. Remembering herself, she looked at the ground.
“Why would a married woman, new to town, call on a locksmith?”
“To see if his house needs cleaning.”
That wasn’t all. She felt it in the tone of his voice. But that was all he was going to say. He opened up his fiddle case and began to pluck the strings, turning the pegs as he did so.
She left before he started to play. I don’t need him, she told herself. I don’t need a thing he can offer.
And yet, it was with a certain amount of dread that she left the city proper and went into the forest. Krysilla had never known a night without four walls around her. When she was very little, she had slept outside in the afternoon. As she looked around the forest, she realized there were many places she could sleep unseen, but it wouldn’t be comfortable.
It would be my own space, though, she thought. In a way. It wasn’t much, but at least she’d seen it now. She knew the worst she could face and didn’t mind it as much as she thought.
But as she walked, she felt what could only be described as a sweep of magic through the forest. It was such a strange feeling that she held perfectly still, waiting for it to come through again, dreading that it might. The spell made her skin cold, and the hair on her arms and neck prickle. From up ahead, she heard the sound of horses and realized the spell was related to the two riders now approaching.
Though she’d never seen one, or felt the touch of their magic, she knew before they appeared that she was about to face two Dogs.
They wore bright red vests, the color of fire, she had been told, though she thought it was closer to the color of blood; one had a blue handkerchief in his pocket and the other a black one. One married and one widowed. The married one had sharp brown eyes and a set mouth that she doubted smiled often, his golden hair slicked back so that it was difficult to see its natural waves fighting against the style. The widower looked more personable, but she didn’t think that went far. Not if you were someone they were trying to catch.
“Goodwife,” the widower Dog called out. “May we speak with you a moment?”
The spell was to find illegal magics, she realized, yet forced herself to nod. All casting left a print of sorts if an object was used. She thought of the lock in her bag and fought against a rising panic. If she ran, things would only be worse.
Go to the forest, Zhiv had said. Take a look around. If she managed to make it out of this, she would...she had no idea what she would do but she would find some way of making Zhiv realize just how terrified she had been. If she made it out.
“We noticed you had strange magic in your bag. May we see it?”
She nodded, putting down her bag. They knew. She was a baker’s wife, not a locksmith’s wife, and through the sweep they had found that the magic didn’t belong to her. Undoing the lace at the top, she forced her fingers to stay calm, to not tremble at the thought of what would happen once they discovered her sin.
And she was about to confess everything, simply by her actions. Hoping this worked, she handed the bag to the one who had asked. He said nothing as he took it. It didn’t take him long to pull out the mug and the lock inside it. “Is your husband a locksmith?”
“No. I’m returning it.”
“Oh?” The widower Dog didn’t look at her. He studied the lock. “What’s his name? The one who did this?”
“Jixsin.”
Now the widower Dog looked at her. “Daegan Jixsin? I didn’t think he did work outside the city.”
“Doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with it,” the married Dog said.
And are you a locksmith now? she almost asked. “My husband told me to send it back. I don’t know why.”
The widower nodded, then tilted the cup upside-down. “Old 4? Special date?”
“Yes,” and because it made her think of Zhiv, she blushed, though nothing had ever occurred between them. A faint smile appeared on the face of the married and widower Dogs. She couldn’t help feeling there was something familiar about the married one’s smile, something in his eyes, though it was gone before she could place it. Without any more questions, they put the lock back inside the mug and the mug back inside the bag.
“Tell Daegan he doesn’t do nearly as good a work as his father did,” the widowed Dog said with a friendly grin and a wink. “Tell him Bix said that.”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the bag when he offered it to her. “I will.”
The Dogs wished her good day and moved on. Hands shaking, she knew she could not sleep in the forest that night. Not now.
And Zhiv knew that.
Torn between fury that he would put her in that situation, and a small sense of gratitude that he had warned her of something her own sister hadn’t mentioned, she made her way back into the city and to the house of Daegan Jixsin.
***
The house was, like most other businesses she’d seen, two floors tall. The sign was straightforward, with no flourishes or artistic flairs to catch the eye, unlike many other businesses in Hurush, and the stucco was also without decoration. The letters and image of the lock were stained a plain black. “Jixsin. Locksmith,” it read.
Not that different from the way Lejer approached business, Krysilla thought. Dreading what might wait for her inside, she knocked.
Heavy, slow footsteps approached from the other side of the door. When it opened, Krysilla found herself staring at a man’s chest, his brown vest and snow white handkerchief that marked him as an unmarried tradesman partially obscured by a black apron. Looking up, she saw a man taller than Zhiv, but somewhat older. Unlike Zhiv’s eyes, always laughing or calculating, this man’s dark brown eyes were calm and his gaze steady without feeling intrusive. Hair as black as her own had been combed neatly into place. “May I help you?” he asked.
“Daegan Jixsin?”
His eyes narrowed. “Yes?”
I should tell him Parlay sent me, she thought. But the Dogs might still be watching. “I have a lock?”
He nodded once, brief. “Come in.”
The inside didn’t need a housekeeper. Though she could only see the entrance, a bit of the kitchen in the back, and a side room where some simple locks were laid out on a table, the rooms had obviously been cleaned regularly and recently. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere.
No wonder Zhiv had been vague when I asked if I’d be cleaning the house, she thought with an inward smile. It didn’t last long. If Zhiv had sent her to clean a house that didn’t need cleaning, he obviously had something else in mind.
“What kind is it?” Daegan asked. Afraid of making it clear she knew more than a baker’s wife should about such things, she opened the bag and pulled it out. He frowned as he took it from her. “What’s your question?” He looked it over.
> She opened her mouth and found she had no idea what to say. The charade had come to an end.
Behind her, the door swung wide and Zhiv raced past and up the stairs to the upper floor. As if he lived here.
Please, Blessed Ones, don’t say he lives here.
“Hello to you, too, Parlay,” Daegan said.
“No time, no time, I’ve almost got enough coin and things are moving along well. Oh, and,” he stopped and turned to speak with Daegan, then stopped again...and grinned from ear to ear. “For once, you’re early.”
Daegan almost dropped the lock. Looking at Zhiv, then Krysilla, he said, “You know her?”
“She’s the one I was telling you about.”
Brown eyes no longer calm, Daegan looked from Krysilla to Zhiv, then back again before saying, “No.” Handing her the lock with a glare, he said, “You can show yourself out.” He then walked to the back, taking off his apron as he went.
“Daegan, she’s perfect.”
“Perfect for what?” Krysilla said, certain now that this was a large part of Zhiv’s plans. What kind of purpose had he assigned her?
“Go to the kitchen,” he gestured in the direction Daegan had gone, “and I’ll explain.”
“She’s not staying here, Parlay,” Daegan called out from the back.
Zhiv continued, as if Daegan hadn’t spoken. “First, I have to put away a few things.”
“I want her gone.”
“She’s my guest,” Zhiv called back with a firmness that surprised Krysilla.
Daegan came out from the back, no longer wearing his apron. “She’ll be gone before I get back or you’ll find somewhere else to live.” Without looking at either of them, he left.
Stunned, Krysilla turned back to Zhiv, who merely shrugged and, instead of going to his room, took his fiddle case with him to the kitchen. “Anything to drink?” he asked her as he passed.
She shook her head. “What happened to Lejer?”
“You don’t seem like the kind who would enjoy the harder stuff.”
“Why did the old woman stare at me when I mentioned him?”
“But maybe some wine?” He opened a cupboard.
“Zhiv?”
At that his eyes went wide, and he stared at her as if she’d let loose some terrible secret. With a light tone that tried to be casual, he said, “Are you saying you’ve seen him? I assure you, we look nothing alike.”
She bit both lips hard between her teeth and put her hands on her hips. “Parlay, then?”
“Yes?” He grinned and sat down with a bottle of wine.
“I’m not staying here. I’m not going to be part of your plans. If necessary, I will pack up and walk all the way back to Lejer—”
He guffawed. His long fingers tapped out a rhythm on his thigh and she waited, hoping he would finally tell her what happened. Watching her carefully, he said, “Your situation is far worse than you know, goodwife. And, since my proposition involves quite a lot of trust between us, I will tell you what you ask, though I must admit, I was hoping you would eat something first.”
“I did.”
“No lies. Your hand is shaking and you’re more irritable than I remember you.”
It was only a slight tremor, and her irritability came more from being around him. At least, that’s what she’d thought. Now that she was aware of how regulated her food had been since she’d begun traveling (all in the interest of saving some coin), she couldn’t deny it. And hated it.
“As I was saying,” he continued, as if he saw hungry people all the time, “your situation is bad. I’m sure someone has already informed you that jobs are scarce for any woman with a blue sash.”
“My sister.”
“More than that, the name Gillasin has been going round the town among the nobles. In the past day or so, the news has trickled down to the servants.”
“What news?” she demanded.
“Not until you eat something,” he said, glaring at her now. “I don’t care if it’s the smallest bit of cheese or bread, but I will not tell you news like this until you’ve gotten the strength to handle it.”
News of that level could only mean one thing. “He ran off with her,” she whispered. Sitting down hard in the chair, she felt the room begin to spin. She shouldn’t be surprised, she told herself. Part of why Lord Felldesh had held back taxes due the King was because of an elaborate scheme by his wife and her lover, Krysilla’s husband, presumably to let her live in style after she’d run away with Lejer. He’d had said he had little part in it, but it didn’t matter. He still benefited from it, and knew. Her hands began shaking in earnest.
Zhiv got up and, faster than she could blink, got her some bread, cheese, and a little ale. “There’s more in the cellar if you need it.”
She shook her head.
“Goodwife,” he said, with a gentleness and concern that surprised her, “you cannot get a job in this city. More than that, you cannot get a job in any part of the realms without your husband’s deed attaching itself to you. Your choices are limited. You can do as you’ve been and either be shut out or, if you’re lucky, find someone who wants to use you for the information you might be able to give. You can go to another town, or follow the market, making sure to wear a white sash instead of blue, perhaps with a different name.” Her eyes flew open at the sound of that, but she waited to see whatever other awful suggestions he might give. “No,” he smirked, “I suppose that’s not an option at all for you, given how you entered Hurush.” He sighed. “Or, you could listen to what I have in mind.”
If only Lejer had chosen someone other than a noblewoman, she couldn’t help thinking. Hands still shaking, she took hold of the piece of bread Zhiv had gotten for her and began to tear it into bite-sized pieces. I used to make bread like this, she thought. I had security. “What do they say about me? And don’t tell me they aren’t saying anything. A wife of seven years, without warning, decides to visit her sister and suddenly her husband is running off with the wife of a noble? They have to be saying something about me.” She looked up, tears that she refused to let fall rimming her eyes.
“Most are sympathetic,” Zhiv said, folding his arms and leaning them into the table. “But there are some who question why he left so suddenly.”
“Because when a man leaves suddenly, it’s not because of a whim,” she said, breaking the bite-sized pieces even smaller. “His wife must have done something to ruin her marriage all those seven years.”
Zhiv’s hand closed over hers, stilling them, and she forced herself not to cry. Lejer never loved her. She had never had a chance to love him. There was no reason for tears. There was no home for her to go back to. She set her jaw and looked up, waiting until the tears had gone.
“Some say that,” he admitted. “You and I both know better.” His hand was warm on hers, and, for a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation. She’d never loved Lejer. She’d hoped she would, but nothing he’d done had allowed that love to form.
And the one man she couldn’t trust was the one man who, if she let him, might easily claim what Lejer had ignored. With a sniff she pulled her hands away, as a proper married woman should when touched by an unmarried man who wasn’t a relation. Zhiv folded his arms once more, this time deep in thought. “What I propose is dangerous, goodwife. It isn’t a decision to be made lightly. If you turn me down, I’ll understand, though I truly feel it’s the best option you currently have.” When he looked at her, she could see that he was actually telling her the truth. “I propose that you live here, with Daegan...and me.”
She barked a laugh.
“No, listen,” he said, smiling himself as if he wasn’t finished telling the joke. “You would stay as our housekeeper. We’d pay you a wage, so you wouldn’t be living a lie. You could practice magic when you like, I’d show you how to keep it safe from the Dogs, and there are plenty of locks here that you could use for practice. Old ones that Daegan collects.”
“That’s where you got them f
rom,” she murmured, another piece of the mysterious Zhiv Mikhailsin fitting into place. The locks she’d practiced on before they tried to open the Felldesh door had come from here.
He only grinned. “The danger comes from my position, not the locks. And from the city.”
She thought of the forest. “I met the Dogs already.”
“I thought you might.” He stared at the table. “You seem to have made it out all right.”
Had he been concerned? Watching him, she wasn’t sure if he had wondered about her safety, or if this was an act, a manipulation. Plus, being near him like this, it was too easy to talk. It was too easy to open up her thoughts and fears and hopes to him, too easy to trust. Too easy to forgive, as well. “I had a lock with me.”
He didn’t move, only watched her closely, revealing nothing.
“I told them I was returning it to Daegan Jixsin. So thank you for giving me the name of a locksmith.”
“You’re welcome.” His smile wasn’t full or warm. He barely looked at her now, and she realized he was thinking.
She thought of Daegan’s reaction to her. “Hon Jixsin won’t like your plan.”
“There isn’t much choice. He just doesn’t see it right now.”
“Why? What are you cooking up in that mind of yours?”
Now, he grinned at her, a full-grown, mischievous, stretched to each ear smile that showed no teeth. “We’re both learning to trust each other, goodwife. As I said before, you’ll have none of my secrets before I’m ready to give them.”
“Not fair. You already have mine.”
“Not all,” he said, though she didn’t believe him. He had always been able to see through her.
“May I consider your offer?”
“Please. And take some food with you. To remember us with kindness.”
She frowned. “I’m not happy with meeting the Dogs.”
“I’m sorry,” and he truly seemed to mean it. “You would have met them anyway if you’d chosen to stay in the forest. Better to meet them during the day when you have an excuse.”
“True.” Now she eyed the cheese and bread. He had said he almost had enough coin and it sounded as if something was falling into place. “Have you heard anything about Zhiv?” she asked.