Steven Brust - Jhegaala

Yeah.

Coffeed, cleaned, dressed, and armed, I went down the stairs, ready to face anything the world threw at me. That's more hyperbole, just in case you were wondering. Loiosh was on my left shoulder, Rocza on my right, and they both scanned the room, fully alert for assassins, hostile citizens, or pieces of sausage that had been left on the floor. It was a reasonably dramatic entrance; too bad the room was empty.

I went straight out onto the street, walking past a pair of dogs that looked like hornless lyorns, and turned left toward the Hat. There were lots of people around today, many of them looking like they worked at the mill, which was strange because it wasn't Endweek. Seems they had a different Endweek here. Well, why not? Everything else about the place was strange.

I stopped near the docks and looked across the river. Yeah, (here was no smoke coming from the thing, and the boats were all pulled up on this side. All of the shops were busy, even the bookseller's. The Guild, whatever it was, was prospering today. It was odd how I seemed to fit right in among all the passersby; I wasn't used to that.

"About how long do I have until I should leave for the Count's?"

"Boss, you have better time sense than I do. How should I know if you don't?"

Noish-pa had told me he used to be able to look at the position of the Furnace and judge the time to within five minutes. I glanced up at it, and looked at the shadows. Yeah, it was definitely daytime.

I thought about asking someone, but I had the feeling I'd sound like an idiot, and feeling like an idiot is bad enough. Muttering to myself, I went back to the Mouse, and found the hostess at her station. She greeted me with a warm smile; she apparently held no ill-will over my coercing her into revealing deep, dark, and vital secrets about one of her patrons. I said, "Pardon me, good hostess, but do you happen to know what time it is?"

She glanced quickly out the window. "Almost half past the twelfth hour," she said.

I thanked her, got more coffee, and sat down to drink it.

"It never used to matter, they tell me."

I looked up. Her hands were out of sight below the bar; I guessed she was cleaning something.

"The time of day never used to be so important, they tell me."

"Oh?"

"I mean, before the mill."

I said, "I'm told that was a long, long time ago."

She nodded. "Yes, it was a whole different world then. But they say time only started mattering when the mill opened, and you had to be somewhere at a certain time, and coordinate with a lot of other people. There are peasants around here, and free farmers as well, who still don't much care what time it is. Some mill worker will agree to meet a peasant at a certain time, and the peasant will be an hour or two late, and the mill worker will take offense on account of being kept waiting, and the peasant won't understand. It causes fights. I've seen it."

I nodded, wondering if this was going somewhere, or if she just wanted to talk. She moved down the bar a little and continued whatever she'd been doing.

"They say it mucks up the river, too. Count Noijlahb, downriver, he complains all the time about his people's stock dying. There have been skirmishes over that, too. And it stinks. They named the town Burz, you know, after the mill was built."

"Sounds like a bad thing all around."

"Yes and no," she said. "People eat better now, and the free farmers and even the peasants get better prices. It's good and bad."

"But it's been there for hundreds of years."

"Oh, not hundreds," she said. "About eighty, I think. It was in my grandmother's day."

"Oh," I said. "I was misinformed. And is that when there got to be all that talk of strange forms of witchcraft, and one sort not liking the other?"

"I wouldn't know anything about that," she said.

"And the Guild?"

She sniffed. "Them."

"What about them?"

"Well, I'm a member, like everyone else. But I can't say as I care for them much."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, you know how they are."

"No, actually I don't. But I'm curious."

"Well, you have to do everything their way. And turn in accounts, and all that nonsense. And they'll tell you who you have to buy from, and who you can't sell to. It's all such silliness.

Actually, it was starting to sound familiar. I smiled and nodded. She asked if I'd care for any pig eatin's. I declined, but accepted some bread fresh from a Guild-approved baker down the street, who did good work. Too bad the stench of the town overwhelmed his shop, or I'd have found him myself. I had the bread with lots of butter and honey from bees that had been raised on something I'd never tasted before, but had a very faint nutty flavor that I liked. I had one more cup of coffee, then stopped because I didn't want to spend the entire ride out to the manor stopping to relieve myself.

People started drifting in, and she started paying attention to them, so I got up and walked down the street to the Hat.

It was pretty busy, but the host found time to accept payment for another week's lodging, and to ask, in a carefully studious tone, where I'd been. That stopped me a little. He was being surprisingly open about it. Had something changed? Was the blade finally coming free? Did my concealed enemy now suddenly not care about being concealed?

I said, "Why do you want to know?"

"Eh? No reason. Just making conversation."

"Just making conversation. I see."

He went down to the other end of the bar to open a bottle of wine for someone. I watched him. The list of people in this town I didn't trust was too long to have any actual use. A little while later he came back. I said, "Have you seen Orbahn lately?"

"You keep asking about him."

"And you keep not telling me where he is."

"Why do you want to know?"

"No reason, just making conversation."

He gave me a look. "Haven't seen him in days," he said. "Probably off making a delivery."

"Probably," I said.

"So," he said with a sniff. "How'd you like the undercooked pork at the Rodent?"

I looked at him carefully. "You've been paid. What's your problem?"

"No problem," he said, scowling only a little. "Just wondered."

"The pig eatin's were fine."

"And did the bedbugs give you good company?"

"Not as much as I'd hoped. Just when the party was starting to get good they had to go off and study for exams the next day."

He sniffed. "Why the hell you'd want to—"

"A stranger needs to spread his business around, don't you think? Especially if he plans to set up shop, as it were. Create good-will everywhere: that's my motto."

"Set up shop?"

"Yep."

"Here?"

"I'm thinking about it. Nice town. I like it."

"What sort of... excuse me." He returned a moment later. "What sort of shop? You thinking of opening another inn?"

"Now, do I look like an innkeeper to you?"

He shrugged. "How would I know?"

"No, no," I said. "I'm in another line of work entirely."

He frowned. "What would that be, exactly?"

I smiled. "I'd rather surprise you."

"Well, surprising me is all well and good. But we have a Guild here, and they're pretty particular about who they let in."

"Really? I hadn't thought they were."

It sailed right past him. "Oh, they are, all right. Trust me. Can I get you something?"

"Do you have any pig eatin's?"

He scowled and didn't answer, so I got another one of his summer ales to make him feel better, then returned to my table and drank it slowly.

In fact, you know, it wasn't bad, for beer.

When I decided enough time had passed, I made my way slowly toward the stables, still thinking about everything. Things were happening quickly now—too quickly for me to take the time I needed to think them through. If someone was orchestrating this, I could be in severe trouble. I'd been in trouble before. I didn't care for it.