Liavek 4

by Will Shetterly

"I thought I asked you to dump this out!" she wailed, as if the evidence of their misfortune was more than she could bear.

  "No!"

  They all started at L'Fertti's roar. T'Nar opened his mouth to put him in his place, but a wave of the wizard's hand silenced him before he could speak. "It's not the pot-boil. No, the potboil is fine. But...I feel a spell working here. I shall have to try an experiment. Mistress, if you would be so good as to step out of the kitchen?"

  "Please!" Kaloo begged. "What harm can it do, Daril?"

  "Spread our shame all over Liavek. We shall be the laughing stock of the whole town," she muttered, but she retreated, leaving the room with such a push of the swinging door that it slammed against the wall behind it. Kaloo turned anxiously back to L'Fertti. His eyes were closed again, his face screwed up in concentration.

  "I once had a deckhand who looked like that, right before he got sick all over the galley. What's the matter with him?"

  "Sshh! He's just concentrating. His magic takes time and effort."

  "You seem to know a lot about it all of a sudden," T'nar observed in a harsh whisper. Kaloo bit her tongue, wondering what was going through T'nar's head now. Trust him not to miss a slip of her tongue.

  L'Fertti gave an awakening snort suddenly, and spoke. "It's tied into the kitchen." he announced, smiling proudly.

  "Didn't you just say it wasn't in the kitchen?" Kaloo asked. He wasn't getting anywhere. Her bringing him here had only upset Daril, and now T'nar was on the trail of where she was really spending her spare time. Things couldn't get worse, and her wizard was contradicting himself.

  L'Fertti said smugly, "You saw it yourself, and yet didn't see it. The food was fine when you and T'nar ate it. Yet when Daril came into the kitchen, it was rotten. Sniff the air now. What do you smell?"

  Kaloo sniffed and then shrugged. "Nothing."

  "I smell a rat," T'nar remarked in an undertone that didn't carry to L'Fertti.

  "Exactly," the wizard agreed with Kaloo. "Nothing. Nothing is rotten in this kitchen when Daril is not in it."

  "If you are trying to say Daril is at the root of this, you had better say something else instead," the fisherman growled.

  "Not exactly." L'Fertti stepped back from T'nar and held up his hands. "I'm not saying Daril is doing it. Quite the contrary. Someone has done something to Daril. I thought at first it was a spell on the kitchen that was triggered whenever Daril entered it. But that's not quite it. There is a spell on Daril that is triggered when she enters the kitchen. So you don't have that serious a problem. Just keep Daril out of the kitchen and have Kaloo do all the cooking."

  "No problem at all. She'd just make half of Liavek sick."

  Kaloo was outraged. "Is that really how you propose to solve this? Just keep Daril out of the kitchen forever? Maybe we should try something simpler, like building a new kitchen that won't trigger the curse, or moving the cooking hearth out into the common room! Maybe we should just move the whole Mug and Anchor!"

  "All perfectly good alternatives to my suggestions." L'Fertti's tone was acid.

  "I thought you could solve the problem, not just find ways to sidestep it. Don't you understand, you old camel? You're talking about taking everything away from Daril. How'd you like to lose your magic? That's what it would be like for her!"

  The comparison seemed to move him, and L'Fertti considered a moment. "I must speak to the lady and determine the source of the curse. Has she received a gift of jewelry lately? A new garment? Clothing we can burn in the hearth if it is the source; spelled gems I shall bear away with me to a place where they can no longer work their mischief."

  "I bet you will," Kaloo mumbled under her breath.

  "Let me have a word with her," T'nar suggested. "She is difficult sometimes, and reluctant to have much to do with magic. It can be a fickle ally. I feel much the same. Someone very dear to me was once lost through too much contact with the deadlier side of luck. I wouldn't want to lose another." His voice took on a graver note as he spoke, and he looked at Kaloo. Kaloo stared back innocently. He nodded, as much to himself as to them, and exited to the common room.

  Kaloo glowered at L'Fertti. "He suspects there's something between us," she hissed. He only shrugged his shoulders at her. In a moment T'nar's voice reached them. "Kaloo. Wizard. She'll hear you out now."

  Daril was waiting for them on a bench drawn up by the hearth. Her red curls were incongruously brave above her set face and wary eyes. T'nar stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flicked to Kaloo, then gripped L'Fertti's.

  "No one has given me jewels. And the clothing I wear is that I have sewn myself, from cloth purchased several months ago. I'm a simple, honest innkeeper who makes good, clean food for working sailors and runs a clean, honest inn. So don't think I'll be buying magic from you to change this misfortune, because I won't."

  L'Fertti stood the outburst well. "I ask nothing of you, except that I be allowed to examine your aura."

  "And I won't be touched by any wizard, either!" Daril would have stood and fled, but T'nar's hand restrained her.

  "Everything will be fine," he said. "If it isn't, I'll beat the luck out of him."

  "No need for violence," L'Fertti quailed.

  "No. It's not your way, is it?" T'nar grinned meaningfully.

  Muttering in his beard, L'Fertti stooped to draw with chalk upon the common-room floor. There was a moment of indecision when he had to ask T'nar to move out of the figure he was making around Daril, but at last they both co-operated. When she was enclosed in three circuits done in six different colors of chalk, L'Fertti seemed satisfied. He crouched to draw a smaller figure about himself, decorated with symbols at each angle. Then he stood, crossed his arms on his chest, and closed his eyes.

  After a bit, Kaloo's legs began to ache. She quietly seated herself. Daril sat very still, her eyes sagged almost shut, her breathing even and very deep. She looked like a weary inn-worker taking a nap after a busy day. L'Fertti was a different matter. Sweat shone on his face; there were lines gouged deep in his brow. Damp circles were spreading under the arms of his robe. His eyes were clenched shut, and he stood motionless save for the spasmodic twitching of his fingers. At one point Kaloo left the room and returned with two hot mugs of kaf. As she handed one to T'nar, he spoke very softly to her. "At least Roen was closer to your age."

  Kaloo flinched. No use pretending now. "That's not how it is, T'nar."

  "I know," he said gravely. "If I didn't, do you think this Laf would still be standing? Yet I'd almost rather it was an affair of the heart between you than what I suspect it is. I know you're nearly a woman now. There's no way I can forbid this. All I can hope is that his motives are the same as yours:'

  "Think what you like," Kaloo flashed. "But as you say, I am near a woman grown. I don't have to explain this to you. And I won't."

  "Then I won't ask you about it." T'nar's voice was cold with finality. She knew he meant what he said. "But I hope you'll be careful. I hope—"

  A heavy thud turned their heads. L'Fertti was sitting flat in his figure, trembling. Daril stirred and lifted her head.

  "Stay back!" the old wizard hissed as T'nar and Kaloo started forward. Dragging moments hung, and then the chalk figures on the floor melted into a meaningless smear. "Now," he gasped. "Do I smell kaf? Fetch some for both of us."

  Kaloo hastened to bring it as T'nar moved to support Daril. When she returned from the kitchen, the wizard was slowly shaking his head. "It was almost too subtle for me," he explained, taking the mug from Kaloo."Whoever did it paid well for that strength of magic. And if it was done by the one who specializes in such spells, I'll wager he didn't take money as payment. He has other hungers. A subtle spell. Yet, in the end, it could not elude me. Mistress, I am forced to ask a personal question. Is your hair...natural?"

  Daril sat a little straighter. Red flushed her cheeks as she put a hand to her coiffed locks. "Why? Does it look that bad?"

  "On the contrary, I find it charming,"
L'Fertti assured her, earning a glare from T'nar. "Even bewitching," he added in an undertone.

  "I wasn't sure of it at first, but Dori insisted."

  "Dori with the slop shop on the houseboat on the canal?" L'Fertti broke in. He shot Kaloo a superior look.

  "Well, yes, but you shouldn't call it a slop shop. She makes very good bread, and her soup—"

  "Is the best kitty stew in Liavek. When her customers sing the 'Pot-boil Blues,' they do it with feeling!" T'nar interjected.

  "T'nar, don't be unkind. She does very well, considering what she has to work with."

  Kaloo snapped out of her silence. "Doesn't she owe us money?"

  "A levar or two," Daril admitted.

  "Or three, or five," T'nar added in an undertone.

  But Daril had heard him. She rounded on him. "Well, I'll not say it's paltry to us, but it's a far greater sum to her. She has her moorage fees to pay, and her trade hasn't been brisk...."

  "But she does owe us money. Has she paid any back lately?"

  "Well, no. Kaloo, what's come over you? When did you start to care about such things?"

  "Exactly how much does she owe us?" T'nar asked. His dark eyes went from Daril's to Kaloo's. His quiet was dangerous.

  "Well," Daril hesitated, flustered. "I suppose I'd have to figure it up to be sure, but…"

  "That much, hm? When's the last time she spoke of paying it back?"

  "She had promised to pay back part of it on Windday. I wasn't even thinking of it when I stopped by to see her. But she got flustered when she saw me, and was close to crying when she told me she didn't have it."

  Daril began to relax and spoke as volubly as if L'Fertti were a customer. "'What's a few coins between friends?' I told her. 'A few coins to you,' she said, 'but I know you could take my boat for it. But you wouldn't understand. You've never had to lie awake and worry about losing your business and home.' On and on like that, she was, caught between anger and crying. I didn't know what to say."

  Daril glanced anxiously around her circle of listeners to ask sympathy for Dori. But T'nar's face was stony. "People like that are always the same. They think we don't have problems because we don't howl them all over Liavek. And they'll always twist it around so that their misfortune is the fault of those who do well, and not the result of their own foolishness."

  "Well. but then she calmed down and apologized for being so rude. I told her it didn't matter, but she insisted on doing something to show how she felt. 'I'm going to fix your hair,' she said. 'Not as payment, but just as a token of how I feel about you. A well-to-do innkeeper like yourself should keep up her appearance. It's not like you can't afford to look nice.' Well, I didn't see it that way at all, but as I'd always told her I admired her way of fixing her hair, I couldn't very well say no. She got the curls to stay, which I've never been able to do. And she even used up the last of the special herbs she had that put the gloss of youth back on your tresses. That's just how she said it. Though I don't think it's quite the color I had when I was a girl. And when I came home and T'Nar admired it, I felt better. You don't know what a mercy it is in this hot weather, to finally have it up off my neck and forehead."

  L'Fertti had been nodding steadily. Now he turned to Kaloo. "A large tub or basin. Soft soap, warm water, and plenty of vinegar. Quickly. Some of those herbs can be irritating to the skin, to say nothing of the magic mixed with them."

  It was done quickly, a chagrined Daril sitting with her head bowed over the basin as Kaloo soaped and rinsed. Two ewers of vinegar and three of fresh water were used before L'Fertti was satisfied. T'Nar set the tub of polluted water outside to be dumped later, on the beach where the ocean could disperse the magic. As he opened the door, Kaloo was surprised at the gray flash of dawn he let in.

  "Morning already. And we've not started the breads for the day, nor renewed the pot-boil," she sighed.

  "We won't be opening today anyway," Daril reminded her from under the towel she was using to dry her steel-gray mane. "Remember that I told the Cat Street Crier that we were remodeling. I'll have to change a few things before we open again, or they'll know that we've been doing something else."

  "What about Dori?"

  "What about her?" Daril turned away. but not before Kaloo had seen the hurt in her eyes. "Just be glad you don't have to live with her conscience."

  "But why would she do it?" Kaloo puzzled.

  "Misery loves company, they say. Perhaps she thought my life undeservedly easy."

  "What if she tries something else?" T'nar asked gruffly.

  "I know her better than you. She'd only have the courage once. When next she sees me, I fancy she will know I'm not as big a fool as I looked. No, let it go, T'nar. And I don't want you meddling in it either, Kaloo. Now." She took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Kaloo, what do you think of new hangings for the wall? I saw some red and yellow ones in the Market yesterday."

  "If I may be allowed to speak, why spend money for new cloth, when it would cost you less to have me magically alter the appearance of the hangings you have now?"

  Daril withered L'Fertti. "I thank you for what you've done, wizard. But the Mug and Anchor is an honest inn. If I put up new hangings, then they're new hangings, to last until they wear out. If you put a spell on the old ones, then they're still the old ones, no matter what semblance you give them. And the old ones are what my customers will see when the spell wears off, or some cart runs over you. I'll have none of your magic about here."

  "Nor I." T'nar broke in suddenly, speaking more harshly than the subject seemed to warrant. He stood. "Daril, the matter of new hangings will keep. There's another matter that needs discussing." He locked eyes with L'Fertti. "Exactly what's going on between you and Kaloo, and how long has it been going on?"

  Silence swallowed the room. L'Fertti gaped like a fish and Daril gasped as the meaning of T'nar's words reached her.

  "But I thought you had brought the wizard in?" Daril glanced in confusion from one face to the next.

  "I assure you, mistress, I am but a wandering—" L'Fertti began.

  "Too late," Kaloo cut in, disgusted. "No, Daril, I brought L'Fertti into this."

  "What have you to do with wizards and the like?" Daril was incredulous. Her face was as unbelieving as if Kaloo had announced she had been dallying with His Scarlet Eminence.

  Kaloo glanced from Daril to T'nar. She made a quick gesture asking for L'Fertti's silence. "I'm studying with him. I intend to invest my luck."

  Daril sat down, the damp towel falling from her hand. She gave Kaloo a look of dumb anguish. "I wouldn't mind so much, if she knew what she was doing. I blame you, wizard, not the child." T'nar spoke bitterly.

  "I'm not a child. And I do know what I'm doing. It's not as frightening as you've led me to believe, T'nar. Look what magic has done for us this night. Was that a dark and dangerous thing? If it weren't for L'Fertti's magic, we'd be out of business."

  "If it weren't for magic in the first place, there wouldn't have been a threat to our business," Daril countered. "Kaloo, child! This luck investiture is not a thing for folks like us. It's fine, I suppose, for folks who can't or won't work, or for a girl who has no other prospects. But not for you. Why, it goes against all that you are. For generations, our family has run this inn, putting out an honest meal for an honest price. Perhaps it isn't exciting and glamorous, but it's nothing to be ashamed of, either."

  "Your family, not mine. Who knows what my family has been doing for generations?" The cold words hung in the air, and it took Kaloo an instant to realize that she had actually spoken them aloud. "I mean—" she tried to amend, but the damage had been done. T'nar's eyes blazed at her. Daril's were wide and empty. This, coming in the wake of the potboil curse, was too much for her. She dropped her face into her hands. Kaloo was guiltily grateful that she did not have to see her foster-mother's expression.

  "I really must be going," L'Fertti quavered, stepping lightly toward the door.

  "No stomach for what you've wro
ught?" T'nar snarled, his hands resting on Daril's shaking shoulders. "Stay, wizard. This is going to be settled."

  L'Fertti froze obediently. T'nar transferred his stare from the wizard to the girl. Blood darkened his face. He aged before her eyes. "If I had known this day would come," he said, voice shaking, "I wonder if I would have bothered with you."

  "T'nar!" Daril gasped in rebuke. "Don't say such things!"

  Kaloo unclenched her jaws to speak. "Well, you needn't bother any longer. If you can't accept that I have to be whatever it is that I am, then there's no place here for me. I'll go. I'm old enough. I can manage on my own."

  "Fine! Get out, then!" T'nar snapped, but Daril shrieked. "T'nar, no, oh no, don't say that. She mustn't go. Kaloo, you can be whatever you wish, do whatever you like, but please don't go!" Daril's voice soared up the scale as she gripped T'nar's arm pleadingly. "Don't let her go! Make her stay. She's all I have. And she's all you have left!"

  Daril was shaking, her eyes and nose running, her face mottled red and white beneath her damp gray dangling hair. Kaloo had never seen her so distraught, nor suspected her stolid manner of masking such intensity of feeling. She had thought her foster-mother was immune to the kind of emotional storms that wracked Kaloo's own heart. With sudden guilt she realized that her thoughtless remark had struck very deep to unleash these hidden things.

  "Please!" Daril begged suddenly, standing and opening her arms. "If you go away, there's nothing left!"

  Kaloo was undone. She did not know how she crossed the room, but she was hugging Daril tightly, weeping for the pain she had caused and would never be able to erase. Daril clutched the girl, staring defiantly at the two men. "Arrange it!" she commanded T'nar shrilly.

  The man stood frozen and torn. With a cry, he brought both his fists down on top of a table, making it shudder and skip over the rough floor with the impact. The wizard yelped and cringed, but T'nar shook his head like a baffled bull. Putting his fists behind his back, he took a deep breath.

  "All right," he conceded savagely. "All right. But it will be on my terms. You, wizard, will come here for these 'lessons.' I'll not have her dangling about Wizard's Row, consorting with the gods only know what. If she must be taught, teach her well. I'll see that you are paid for your time, so be sure that my money is the only thing you take in payment." He looked at the wizard with cold and knowing eyes. "Do we have an understanding?"