Steven Brust - Jhegaala

"Why are you helping me?" I asked him. Sometimes a blunt question can shock someone into an honest answer.

He shrugged. "You seem an all-right fellow. If you saw a stranger going for a stroll in a direction where you knew there was a nasty bog, wouldn't you mention it?"

Probably not. "I suppose so," I said.

"Well, Loiosh? What do you think? " "Boss? " "Is he warning me away for my own good, or because he doesn't want me learnin g

something?" "How should I know? Could be both." "Mmmm. Good point."

"Can I buy you another drink?" I asked him.

"No, I'm fine. I need to be running anyway. I need to make sure the people preparing my next shipment aren't lightening the burden by drinking it all." He grinned and stood up.

"Okay," I said. "Thanks for the information, and the advice. I owe you." Exactly

what I owed him was still to be determined. He made a dismissing gesture and walked out of the inn. I sat there for a while, watching my fingers draw circles in the moisture on the table.

One thing just wouldn't leave my head: When I had asked the tradesman if he knew anyone named Merss, he had thought I was threatening him. That was just too intriguing to pass up. Sitting and thinking about it would tell me nothing.

Presently I got up and went out.

3

Magistrate: What first brought him to your attention ? Lefitt: His remark about starting the healing process . Boraan: When those in power wish to start the healing process, my lord, it means ther e are things they don't want you to find out . Lefitt (hastily): Present company excepted, of course ! Boraan: Oh yes, to be sure . Lefitt: May we offer Your Lordship oishka and water ?

— Miersen, Six Parts Water Day Two, Act IV, Scene 5

The smell wasn't as bad. There was a wind from the west and it was cold, too cold for mid-spring. I pulled my cloak around me and thought about going back to my room to get warmer stuff, but then I'd have to put up with remarks from Loiosh, and it didn't seem worth it.

" Boss? " "Yeah? " "What now? " "Now I find someone who'll talk to me. " "So, you don't trust him? " "Yes. No. I don't know. I need to know more. And, dammit, I want to find them. " "Why? " "Loiosh— " "No, Boss, really. When we came over the mountain, it was something to do since w e

were here anyway. Now it's become this thing you have to do. Why?"

Part of his job is asking me the hard questions.

While I was trying to think up a good answer, my feet carried me over to the pier. If you've lost track, it was the middle of the day. The factory across the river was belching gray smoke into the air. The wind was coming from the mountains (which I'm told is unusual) so at least the stench wasn't bad. People— not many, mostly mothers with children in arms—were walking along the streets behind me. I didn't worry about them, because Loiosh was—

"Someone's coming, Boss. Woman, doesn't seem threatening, and doesn't seem to be walking up to you in particular."

"Okay.”

I didn't turn around, and presently there were footfalls behind and to my right. Soft-soled shoes that quietly "swooshed," probably dark skin or something like it. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, about ten feet away, and turned and nodded. She nodded back. She was around my age, maybe a bit older. Her eyes, which I noticed first, were an intriguing gray; her hair was black, I suspected dyed, and fell in long ringlets well past her shoulders. Her nose was straight, her form very pleasant, curvy; some time in my past I'd have been interested, and that part of me must not have been completely dead or I'd not have noticed. She wore long silvery ear-rings and several rings on her fingers. Her dress was forest green, with a low, square neckline, and large obvious ties down the front; it didn't quite reach her ankles and the red ruffle of her flaisl* was just visible below the hem. She wore slippers the same color as her eyes.

I turned back to studying the smoke from the factory. She seemed to be doing the same. After a few minutes she said, "Looking for a little fun?"

"No thanks," I said. "I hate fun. Never wanted any. Even as a child, I'd run and hide if it looked like someone wanted me to have fun. I was pleased to grow up, because now I can go through the rest of my life without ever having fun."

She laughed perfunctorily then gave a sort of sigh and continued watching the factory. I figured her work-day would likely begin when the place closed for the evening.

"Is the Guild in charge of your profession too?" I asked her.

You never know how tags will react to questions about their work. Sometimes they'll talk about it the way you'd talk about the prospective harvest if the frost didn't come early; sometimes they'd give a sort of haughty glance as if figuring you were getting excited by asking; sometimes they'd become angry as if any question about how they made their daily bread was more personal than the act itself—which I guess maybe it was.

She just said, "The Guild runs everything."

"I was getting that impression. I'm Vlad."

She looked at me, then looked back across the river. "Well met, Vlad. I'm Tereza. What in the name of the Three Sisters would bring you to this crappy little town?"

There were lines in the corners of her eyes and on her forehead that she hadn't quite managed to conceal with her makeup, but I guess the makeup wasn't expected to function in full light. The lines made her more attractive.

*A flaisl, it turns out, is a warm, abstract-pattern fabric used by prairie prostitutes for colorful yet comfortable petticoats during the cold winters. Thanks to K. Christie for finding that out for me.—SB

"I came for the aroma."

A smile flickered quickly.

"In fact," I went on, "I've been standing here asking myself the same question. Mostly, I'm passing through on the way to somewhere else. Or I guess from somewhere else. But I understand I have kin somewhere around here, and I'd like to find them."

"Oh. Who?"

"The name is Merss."

She turned her head and gave me a long, measuring look. I waited.

"I can't help you," she said at last.

I nodded. "I'm beginning to suspect they aren't here at all," I said, because a good lie can loosen tongues better than a bad truth.

"I know who would be will—that is, able to tell you many things about this town," she said.

"Oh? Well, that's the most hopeful thing I've heard today."

She hesitated, then said, "It'll cost you."

I looked at her.

She sighed. "Oh, all right. There's a public house called the Cellar Mouse."

"Yes, I saw it."

"In back of it are stables. Most nights, there will be a man there named Zollie. He's the coachman for Count Saekeresh. He knows everyone and everything, and he's the Lord's coachman so no one can touch him; or at least so he thinks. Get him liquored up a bit and he'll tell you anything."

I dug an imperial out, walked over and put it into her palm. She did that thing people do when judging the weight of a coin and said, "Is it gold?"

"Pure. Don't spend it all in one place."

She laughed. "I owe you, Vlad. Fenario, here I come!" She grinned and kissed my cheek. She was nearly as tall as I was. She was much more attractive when she was smiling. I watched as she walked away, a nice spring in her step.

After a bit, I took myself over to the Cellar Mouse, which was a lot like the Pointy Hat (as I'd started calling the other place in my head) except the room was longer and the ceiling a bit higher. The tables were all small and round. After the usual reserved but not-unfriendly nods, I took a glass of wine to a small table and set in to nursing it until the evening.