Steven Brust - Jhegaala

Which brought me back to the point that this woman might well know who that was, if only I could find a way to convince her to tell me. Without spending all night at it. Damn, damn, damn.

"Are you going to kill me?"

I realized that I'd been standing there for quite a while, not saying anything. "No," I said. "The Coven, where does it meet?"

"East of town, in the woods. I don't know exactly. We come to a place near the creek, then they blindfold us and take us one at a time."

Yeah, they would.

"Okay," I said. "I'm done with you. Feel free to tell anyone you want about my visit, and about the questions I asked. No doubt someone will be angry and some people will come after me. When they do, I'll kill them. Then I'll come back and kill you. If you think that's a good argument for keeping your mouth shut, you're probably right, but it's up to you. In any case, I would suggest you remain here and not leave the house or make a sound for at least an hour or so, but that's also up to you. Meanwhile, rest well."

I put my knife away and walked out of the room. The fellow on the floor was now snoring. I gave serious consideration to kicking him, but didn't; I went past him, out the door, and into the star-studded night of Fenario.

"Well, Loiosh?"

"Well, what, Boss? If you want to summon a demon, I'm afraid you're on your own."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm up for that. That was a lot of information. I have to think about it, about what it means. If anything. Loiosh, didn't Sethra once say something about a lie being temporary? How did she put it?"

"I don't remember. But, Boss, I don't think the lie is your problem."

"No, I guess not. It's just another thing to add to the list. It's getting to be a pretty long list, Loiosh. And I am going to find out the name that needs to go at the top of it."

"Left here. There, that light on your right is the inn."

I made it back without mishap. I had to bang on the door to convince the host to let me in. I could have picked the lock in the dark, but I had no interest in letting it be known that I could do that. He glowered at me as he opened the door; I gave him a warm smile and went past him up to my room, where I stripped off my outer garments, and threw myself onto the bed. The last thing I remember was Loiosh and Rocza, perched next to each other on the chair, twining their necks around each other. It reminded me of something painful, but I fell asleep before I could remember exactly what it was.

Boraan: Nothing is confusing once the facts are assembled and the proper conclusion s drawn . Lefitt: Nonsense, darling. All the facts and conclusions about a confusing situatio n simply confirm the confusion . Boraan: You think so ? Lefitt: I'm afraid I do, though I do hate to dispute our lovely epigram . Boraan: Your lovely epigram, my dear. I was quoting you during the affair of th e Fisherman's Lamp . Lefitt: Yes, my love, only I said it after we had solved the crime .

—Miersen, Six Parts Water Day Two, Act II, Scene 3

I'd forgotten to close the shutters again, and so woke with the Furnace burning painfully into my eyes. I cursed for a little while, then got up and closed them, because it is better to close the shutters than curse the light, or however that goes. I tried to sleep some more but it didn't take.

I dressed and went downstairs for coffee. The host's wife was behind the bar, and she gave me a look that indicated she wouldn't have been there if her husband hadn't been woken up in the middle of the night to let me into the inn. But she didn't say anything, so I kept my thoughts on the subject to myself and just drank my coffee: bitter on the tongue, but it works just as well as good klava when it hits the belly. That's the difference, I guess: klava is a pleasure, coffee is merely physic.

Pretty effective physic, though. As it started working, my attitude got a little better-or, rather, less bad-and when I got some toasted bread and cheese from her I tipped her well. This cheese, unlike what I'd had last night, turned out to be sharp and musky and neither crumbly nor salty, which I could have considered a reward from the gods for my generosity. I fed some to Loiosh and Rocza, who seemed to agree with my preference.

"Got a plan for today, Boss?"

"Part of one. I'm going to sit here and find out if our friend from last night kept her mouth shut."

"What if she didn't?"

"Then I will engage in acts of violence and mayhem."

"Oh, good. I've been missing those."

A little later the host came down and walked up to me. For a minute, I thought I was going to be evicted, and wondered how I'd respond, but he put a folded and sealed paper in front of me, saying, "This arrived for you from His Lordship," and stalked off with no other remarks.

I opened it. In four times as many words as it should have taken, it told the "Daylord" (whatever that might mean) to see that I was given full access to the mill and treated with all courtesy due to an honored friend of &c &c and to the boat crew to provide, to and from, transportation such as was available and befitting &c &c.

"Well, there it is, Boss. We going to visit it today?"

"Maybe. Not right away," I folded up the paper and put it away for later consideration.

I drank enough coffee to convince myself that no group of enraged citizens or dour law-enforcement officials were going to charge into the inn with the intention of pulling me out to face justice for my criminal actions of the night before. I think I was relieved.

"Okay," I said. "That's enough. Let's take a walk."

"Anywhere in particular?"

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"That means no, which means we're going to the dock."

"Shut up.”

I headed for the dock, and stood looking out at the mill, churning away, smoke rising and dissipating and meandering off to the northeast. The smell wasn't quite as bad today. I wondered if there were people living to the northeast, and how they were liking the breeze about now.

"What is, Boss?"

"Hmm?"

"You muttered 'trap.' "

"Oh, did I?"

The mill across the river was squat and long and built of stone, and I didn't see one single Verra-be-damned window in the place.

"Yeah, well, I don't know if it is, but it looks like one."

"I see what you mean. Let's not go there."

" Not until we know more, anyway."

It was well before noon, and the Furnace cast long shadows of the houses to my left. My grandfather had once mentioned something called "Shadowreading," which involved somehow seeing portents and omens in the shape of shadows of various objects at certain times. I never learned much about it, because he thought it was nonsense.

I wondered what he'd tell me about this. He approved of the idea of me finding out something about my mother; I know because he said so, and because he gave me that note. But I'd dearly love to hear his thoughts on "light" and "dark" forms of the Art, and all of the strange politics of this place.

He'd tell me not to be distracted by the shadows, but to concentrate on the target. And I'd tell him that all I could see were the shadows. And he'd point out that shadows need a light source, and a real object to define the shape.

Well, okay, Noish-pa. I'll describe the shadows, and you tell me what object has a shape like that, eh? We have a Count who owns a paper mill. We have a family killed because I was asking questions about them. We have a coachman killed because he answered the questions. We have Dahni, who carries on conversations in the dark and wants to recruit me to his side, but won't say which side is his, or even what the sides are. We have Orbahn, in the bright blue vest, who gives me vague hints and warnings and then vanishes. We have a Merchants' Guild that runs the entire town and the rest of the county too, for all I know, and may or may not be tied into bizarre customs of witchcraft, one of which forbids the summoning of demons, which, in turn, is impossible to begin with. Which parts are shadow, and what is casting them, Noish-pa?