Athyra

by Steven Brust

  “Oh, it’s very soft.”

  “Therefore he must have struck it quite hard in order to cut his head open, yes?”

  “Oh, that’s true. But how?”

  “How indeed? I have been informed that the horse came into town at a walk, with the body exactly as you see it. One explanation that would account for the facts would be if he were driving along, and he died suddenly, and, at the same time or shortly thereafter, the horse was startled, throwing the already dead body into the back, where it would fall just as you see it, and with enough force to break the skin over the skull, and perhaps the skull as well. If that were the case, what would you expect to see?”

  Savn was actually beginning to enjoy this—to see it as a puzzle, rather than as the body of someone he had once known. He said, “A depression in the skull, and a matching one on the cart beneath his head.”

  “He would have had to hit very hard indeed to make a depression in the wood. But, yes, there should be one on the back of his head. And what else?”

  “What else?”

  “Yes. Think. Picture the scene as it may have happened.”

  Savn felt his eyes widen. “Oh!” He looked at the horse. “Yes,” he said. “He has run hard.”

  “Excellent!” said the Master, smiling for the first time. “Now we can use our knowledge of Reins. What did he do?”

  “Well, he used to be a driver, but since he left town I don’t know.”

  “That is sufficient. Would Reins ever have driven a horse into a sweat?”

  “Oh, no! Not unless he was desperate.”

  “Correct. So either he was in some great trouble, or he was not driving the horse. You will note that this fits well with our theory that death came to him suddenly and also frightened the horse. Now, there is not enough evidence to conclude that we are correct, but it is worthwhile to make our version a tentative assumption while we look for more information.”

  “I understand, Master.”

  “I see that you do. Excellent. Now touch the body.”

  “Touch it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Master ...”

  “Do it!”

  Savn swallowed, reached out and laid his hand lightly on the arm nearest him, then drew back. Master Wag snorted. “Touch the skin.”

  He touched Reins’s hand with his forefinger, then pulled away as if burned. “It’s cold!” he said.

  “Yes, bodies cool when dead. It would have been remarkable if it were not cold.”

  “But then—”

  “Touch it again.”

  Savn did so. It was easier the second time. He said, “It is very hard.”

  “Yes. This condition lasts several hours, then gradually fades away. In this heat we may say that he has been dead at least four or five hours, yet not more than half a day, unless he died from the Cold Fever, which would leave him in such a condition for much longer. If that had been the cause of death, however, his features would exhibit signs of the discomfort he felt before his death. Now, let us move him.”

  “Move him? How?”

  “Let’s see his back.”

  “All right.” Savn found that bile rose in his throat as he took a grip on the body and turned it over.

  “As we suspected,” said the Master. “There is the small bloodstain on the wood, and no depression, and you see the blood on the back of his head.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “The next step is to bring him back home, where we may examine him thoroughly. We must look for marks and abrasions on his body; we must test for sorcery, we must look at the contents of his stomach, his bowels, his kidneys, and his bladder; and test for diseases and poisons; and—” He stopped, looking at Savn closely, then smiled. “Never mind,” he said. “I see that your Maener and Paener are still waiting for you. This will be sufficient for a lesson; we will give you some time to become used to the idea before it comes up again.”

  “Thank you, Master.”

  “Go on, go on. Tomorrow I will tell you what I learned. Or, rather, how I learned it. You will hear everything there is to hear tonight, no doubt, when you return to Tern’s house, because the gossips will be full of the news. Oh, and clean your hands carefully and fully with dirt, and then water, for you have touched death, and death calls to his own.”

  This last remark was enough to bring back all the revulsion that Savn had first felt when laying hands on the corpse. He went down in the road and wiped his hands thoroughly and completely, including his forearms, and then went into Tern’s house and begged water to wash them with.

  When he emerged, he made his way slowly through the crowd that still stood around the wagon, but he was no longer the object of attention. He noticed Speaker standing a little bit away, frowning, and not far away was Lova, who Savn knew was Fin’s friend, but he didn’t see Fin. He returned to his own wagon while behind him Master Wag called for someone to drive him and the body back to his home.

  “What is it?” asked Polyi as he climbed up next to her, among the supplies. “I mean, I know it’s a body, but—”

  “Hush,” said Maener, and shook the reins.

  Savn didn’t say anything; he just watched the scene until they went around a corner and it was lost to sight. Polyi kept pestering him in spite of sharp words from Mae and Pae until they threatened to stop the wagon and thrash her, after which she went into a sulk.

  “Never mind,” said Pae. “We’ll find out all about it soon enough, I’m sure, and you shouldn’t ask your brother to talk about his art.”

  Polyi didn’t answer. Savn, for his part, understood her curiosity; he was wondering himself what Master Wag would discover, and it annoyed him that everyone in town would probably know before he did.

  The rest of the errands took nearly four hours, during which time they learned nothing new, but were told several times that “Reins’s body come into town from Wayfield.” By the time the errands were over, Savn and Polyi were not only going mad with curiosity, but were certain they were dying of hunger as well. The cart had vanished from the street, but judging by the wagons in front and the loud voices from within, everyone for miles . in any direction had heard that Reins had been brought into town, dead, and they were all curious about it, and had accordingly come to Tern’s house to talk, listen, speculate, eat, drink, or engage in all of these at once.

  The divisions were there, as always: most of the people were grouped in families, taking up the front half of the room, and beyond them were some of the apprenticed girls, and the apprenticed boys, and the old people were along the back. The only difference was that Savn had rarely, if ever, seen the place so full, even when Avin the Bard had come through. They would have found no place to sit had they not been seen at once by Haysmith, whose youngest daughter Pae had saved from wolves during the flood-year a generation ago. The two men never mentioned the incident because it would have been embarrassing to them both, but Haysmith was always looking out for Pae in order to perform small services for him. In this case, he caused a general shuffling on one of the benches, and room was made for Mae, Pae, and Polyi, where it looked as if there was no room to be found.

  Savn stayed with them long enough to be included in the meal that Mae, with help from Haysmith’s powerful lungs, ordered from Tern. Pae and Haysmith were speculating on whether some new disease had shown up, which launched them into a conversation about an epidemic that had cost a neighbor a son and a daughter many years before Savn had been born. When the food arrived, Savn took his ale, salad, and bread, and slipped away.

  Across the room, he found his friend Coral, who was apprenticed to Master Wicker. Coral managed to make room for one more, and Savn sat down.

  “I wondered when you’d arrive,” said Coral. “Have you heard?”

  “I haven’t heard what Master Wag said about how he died.”

  “But you know who it was?”

  “I was there while the Master was; he made it a lesson.” Savn swallowed the saliva that had suddenly built up in his
mouth. “It was Reins,” he said, “who used to make deliveries from the Sharehouse.”

  “Right.”

  “I know he left town years ago, but I don’t know where he went.”

  “He just went away somewhere. He came into some money or something.”

  “Oh, did he? I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Well, it doesn’t do him any good now.”

  “I guess not. What killed him?”

  Coral shrugged. “No one knows. There wasn’t a mark on him, they say.”

  “And the Master doesn’t know, either? He was just going to look over the body when I had to go.”

  “No, he came in an hour ago and spoke with Tem, said he was as confused as anyone.”

  “Is he still here?” asked Savn, looking around.

  “No, I guess he left right away. I didn’t see him myself; I just got here a few minutes ago.”

  “Oh. Well, what about the b—what about Reins?”

  “They’ve already taken him to the firepit,” said Coral.

  “Oh. I never heard who found him.”

  “From what I hear, no one; he was lying dead in the back of the cart, and the horse was just pulling the cart along the road all by itself, with no one driving at all.”

  Savn nodded. “And it stopped here?”

  “I don’t know if it stopped by itself or if Master Tem saw it coming down the road, or what.”

  “I wonder how he died,” said Savn softly. “I wonder if we’ll ever know.”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll tell you one thing—I’ll give you clippings for candles that it isn’t an accident that that Easterner with a sword walks into town the day before Reins shows up dead.”

  Savn stared. “Easterner?”

  “What, you don’t know about him?”

  In fact, the appearance of the body had driven the strange wanderer right out of Savn’s mind. He stuttered and said, “I guess I know who you mean.”

  “Well, there you are, then.”

  “You think the Easterner killed him?”

  “I don’t know if he killed him, but my Pae said he came from the east, and that’s the same way Reins came from.”

  “He came from—” Savn stopped; he was about to say that he came from the south, but he changed his mind and said, “Of course he came from the east; he’s an Easterner.”

  “Still—”

  “What else do you know about him?”

  “Precious little,” said Coral. “Have you seen him?”

  Savn hesitated, then said, “I’ve heard a few things.”

  Coral frowned at him, as if he’d noticed the hesitation, then said, “They say he came on a horse.”

  “A horse? I didn’t see a horse. Or hear about one.”

  “That’s what I heard. Maybe he hid it.”

  “Where would you hide a horse?”

  “In the woods.”

  “Well, but why would you hide a horse?”

  “How should I know. He’s an Easterner; who knows how he thinks?”

  “Well, just because he has a horse doesn’t mean he had anything to do with—”

  “What about the sword?”

  “That’s true, he does have a sword.”

  “There, you see?”

  “But if Reins was stabbed to death, Master Wag would have seen. So would I, for that matter. There wasn’t any blood at all, except a little where his head hit the bed of the wagon, and that didn’t happen until he was already dead.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “Master Wag can tell.”

  Coral looked doubtful.

  “And there was no wound, anyway,” repeated Savn.

  “Well, okay, so he didn’t kill him with the sword. Doesn’t it mean anything that he carries one?”

  “Well, maybe, but if you’re traveling, you’d want to—”

  “And, like I said, he did come from the east, and that’s what everyone is saying.”

  “Everyone is saying that the Easterner killed him?”

  “Well, do you think it’s a coincidence?”

  “I don’t know,” said Savn.

  “Heh. If it is, I’ll—” Savn didn’t find out what Coral was prepared to do in case of a coincidence, because he broke off in mid-sentence, staring over Savn’s shoulder toward the door. Savn turned, and at that moment all conversation in the room abruptly stopped.

  Standing in the doorway was the Easterner, apparently quite at ease, wrapped in a cloak that was as grey as death.

  Chapter Three

  I will not marry a loudmouth Speaker,

  I will not marry a loudmouth Speaker,

  He’d get haughty and I’d get meeker.

  Hi-dee hi-dee ho-la!

  Step on out ...

  He stared insolently back at the room, his expression impossible to read, save that it seemed to Savn that there was perhaps a smile hidden by the black hair that grew above his lip and curled down around the corners of his mouth. After giving the room one long, thorough look, he stepped fully inside and slowly came up to the counter until he was facing Tern. He spoke in a voice that was not loud, yet carried very well. He said, “Do you have anything to drink here that doesn’t taste like linseed oil?”

  Tern looked at him, started to scowl, shifted nervously and glanced around the room. He cleared his throat, but didn’t speak.

  “I take it that means no?” said Vlad.

  Someone near Savn whispered, very softly, “They should send for His Lordship.” Savn wondered who “they” were.

  Vlad leaned against the serving counter and folded his arms; Savn wondered if he were signaling a lack of hostility, or if the gesture meant something entirely different among Easterners. Vlad turned his head so that he was looking at Tern, and said, “Not far south of here is a cliff, overlooking a river. There were quite a few people at the river, bathing, swimming, washing clothes.”

  Tem clenched his jaw, then said, “What about it?”

  “Nothing, really,” said Vlad. “But if that’s Smallcliff, it’s pretty big.”

  “Smallcliff is to the north,” said Tem. “We live below Smallcliff.”

  “Well, that would explain it, then,” said Vlad. “But it is really a very pleasant view; one can see for miles. May I please have some water?”

  Tem looked around at the forty or fifty people gathered in the house, and Savn wondered if he were waiting for someone to tell him what to do. At last he got a cup and poured fresh water into it from the jug below the counter.

  “Thank you,” said Vlad, and took a long draught.

  “What are you doing here?” said Tem.

  “Drinking water. If you want to know why, it’s because everything else tastes like linseed oil.” He drank again, then wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Someone muttered something about, “If he doesn’t like it here ...” and someone else said something about “haughty as a lord-Tern cleared his throat and opened his mouth, shut it again, then looked once more at his guests. Vlad, apparently oblivious to all of this, said, “While I was up there, I saw a corpse being brought along the road in a wagon. They came to a large, smoking hole in the ground, and people put the body into the hole and burned it. It seemed to be some kind of ceremony.”

  It seemed to Savn that everyone in the room somehow contrived to simultaneously gasp and fall silent. Tem scowled, and said, “What business is that of yours?”

  “I got a good look at the body. The poor fellow looked familiar, though I’m not certain why.”

  Someone, evidently one of those who had brought Reins to the firepit, muttered, “I didn’t see you there.”

  Vlad turned to him, smiled, and said, “Thank you very much.”

  Savn wanted to smile himself, but concealed his expres—

  sion behind his hand when he saw that no one else seemed to think it was funny. Tem said, “You knew him, did you?”

  “I believe so. How did he happen to become dead?” Tem leaned over the counter and said, “Maybe you coul
d tell us.”

  Vlad looked at the Housemaster long and hard, then at the guests once more, and then suddenly he laughed, and Savn let out his breath, which he had been unaware of holding.

  “So that’s it,” said Vlad. “I wondered why everyone was looking at me like I’d come walking into town with the three-day fever. You think I killed the fellow, and then just sort of decided to stay here and see what everyone said about it, and then maybe bring up the subject in case anyone missed it.” He laughed again. “I don’t really mind you thinking I’d murder someone, but I am not entirely pleased with what you seem to think of my intelligence.

  “But, all right, what’s the plan, my friends? Are you going to stone me to death? Beat me to death? Call your Baron to send in his soldiers?” He shook his head slowly. “What a peck of fools.”

  “Now, look,” said Tem, whose face had become rather red. “No one said you did it; we’re just wondering if you know—”

  “I don’t know,” the Easterner said. Then added, “Yet.”

  “But you’re going to?” said Tem.

  “Very likely,” he said. “I will, in any case, look into the matter.”

  Tim looked puzzled, as the conversation had gone in a direction for which he couldn’t account. “I don’t understand,” he said at last. “Why?”

  The Easterner studied the backs of his hands. Savn looked at them, too, and decided that the missing finger was not natural, and he wondered how Vlad had lost it. “As I said,” continued Vlad, “I think I knew him. I want to at least find out why he looks so familiar. May I please have some more water?” He dug a copper piece out of a pouch at his belt, put it on the counter, then nodded to the room at large and made his way through the curtain in the back of the room, presumably to return to the chamber where he was staying.

  Everyone watched him; no one spoke. The sound of his footsteps echoed unnaturally loud, and Savn fancied that he could even hear the rustle of fabric as Vlad pushed aside the door-curtain, and a scraping sound from above as a bird perched on the roof of the house.

  The conversation in the room was stilted. Savn’s friends didn’t say anything at all for a while. Savn looked around the room in time to see Firi leaving with a couple of her friends, which disappointed him. He thought about getting up to talk to her, but realized that it would look like he was chasing her. An older woman who was sitting behind Savn muttered something about how the Speaker should do something. A voice that Savn recognized as belonging to old Dymon echoed Savn’s own thought that perhaps informing His Lordship that an Easterner had drunk a glass of water at Tern’s house might be considered an overreaction. This started a heated argument about who Tem should and shouldn’t let stay under his roof. The argument ended when Dymon hooted with laughter and walked out.