Steven Brust - Athyra

“I’m not certain, Master.”

The Master looked at him closely. “Is it,” he said, “that you aren’t certain you should have saved the Easterner? Because, if that is the trouble, it shouldn’t bother you. Saving lives is our trade—all lives. Even, sometimes, that of livestock. Yes, if it is a choice between saving the life of a human being and saving the life of an Easterner, that is one thing. But in this case, you found someone who was injured and you cured him. It is no betrayal of His Lordship for you to perform your calling.”

“It isn’t that, Master. I think it’s Mae and Pae.”

“What about them?”

“Well, they’ve been acting funny, that’s all.”

“Funny? What do you mean?”

“Well, they seem distracted, like they’re far away.”

“Explain what you mean, Savn. Be precise.”

“It’s hard to, Master. It’s a feeling I have. But when Polyi and I were out all night, they didn’t say a word to us about it.”

“You’re growing up, Savn. They recognize this, and feel you can be trusted more. That’s all it is.”

Savn shook his head. “I’m afraid Vlad put a spell on them.”

The Master cocked his head. “A spell? What sort of spell, and why would he do something like that?”

“A witchcraft spell.”

“Witchcraft!” said the Master. “Nonsense. If you believe all of the rubbish that—Hullo, is someone there?”

There did, indeed, seem to be someone clapping at the door. Savn got up and opened it, and was startled to find himself looking up at Fird, the fruit-seller from Bigcliff.

Savn stared, open-mouthed, his thoughts racing. For one thing, he had forgotten how tall Fird was. For another, Vlad had been asking about him just the other day, and ... Savn realized he was being rude. He closed his mouth, opened it again, and said, “May I be of some service to you?”

“I be here looking,” said Fird, in his low, careful voice, and with the odd grammatical formulations of Bigcliff, “for Master Wag.”

“Who is it?” called the Master from inside.

“Please come in,” said Savn, stepping out of Fird’s way.

“My thanks to you for that,” said Fird, ducking his head as he passed under the Master’s doorway. Over his shoulder was a large sack, which Savn assumed contained the fruit he’d been selling.

The Master rose as he entered, and said, “What seems to be the matter, goodman?”

“A note is sent me to you, by for this Eastern devil. You know him?”

“Eastern devil?” said Master Wag and Savn with one voice. The Master gave Savn a look, then continued. “Do you mean the Easterner, Vlad?”

“The same as him, yes,” said Fird.

“I know him. He sent you a note?”

“That were, or the mountains grew him.”

Savn had to stop and figure this one out, but Master Wag said, “May I see it?”

“To you be done, then,” said Fird, and handed a small piece of pale, almost white parchment to the Master. The Master, in turn, frowned, read it several times, and, with a look that asked permission of Fird, handed it to Savn.

At first, Savn mentally tsked at the Easterner’s penmanship; then he wondered how Vlad had written it. It had probably been done in wood-ash using a dagger’s point. It read: “Sorry I missed you I’ve been hurt ask Master Wag to bring you to me I’ll pay gold.”

Savn handed it back to Fird, while the Master asked, “How do you know him?”

“How? As one will know another. Gold he is offered to me, and then he is not where his promise is. I be curious, I be finding fruit in sack, I be finding note, I be reading, I be coming here. But you he is knowing, and this I be in wonder at.”

“He’s hurt, as he said,” said the Master. “I helped him.”

“So?” said Fird, shrugging. “He is hurt. I have mangoes and apples, which will cure like a physicker.”

“Maybe,” said the Master, sounding doubtful.

“Apples. Apple’s the thing. Where with to—”

“Savn here will lead you to him.”

“Master—”

“You think it’s a trick?”

“Well—”

“If His Lordship, or Speaker, or anyone else knows enough to attempt this sort of trick, it doesn’t much matter if we fall for it.”

“Not to us, but—”

“Think about it, Savn. Think about how much they would have to know.”

“Trick?” said Fird. “Is what this—”

“The Easterner,” said Master Wag, “is hurt because some people tried to kill him. Savn is concerned that—”

“Ah. Well, is to careful, then, but I—”

“Yes, I know,” said the Master. “Savn?”

“All right. Should we go now?” Both Fird and Master Wag nodded.

“I may join you later, to check on our patient, or else I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Very well, Master,” said Savn, and led the way out the door and down the road toward the Curving Stone.

He was saved from the necessity of deciphering Fird’s speech by the fact that Fird didn’t seem inclined to make conversation, and Savn, for his part, didn’t know what to say. Just past the Curving Stone he led the way into the woods, through them, and out over Bigcliff. Fird looked down with interest at the beach where, though he probably didn’t know it, Savn had first pointed him out to Vlad.

Savn still wondered what the Easterner wanted with the fruit-seller. As they approached the cave, Fird stopped, sniffed the air, and said his first words since they set out: “Norska is been roasted.”

Savn smelled it too, and repressed a chuckle. So much for the smell not getting out. “This way,” he said, and led Fird into the cave. “Can you make a light?”

Fird grunted, and a soft red glow filled the cavern. They went through the first, large chamber, and Savn led the way unerringly into the correct passage, and another large chamber. Here, even though Savn half expected it, he was startled by the flapping of wings as the jhereg appeared before him. Fird jumped, and his sorcerous light wavered for a moment as Savn said, “It’s all right, they won’t hurt us.” Fird didn’t appear convinced, but watched the jhereg closely and kept a short knife in his hand.

The jhereg flew around the opening for a moment, then disappeared.

“Is Easterner magic to tame carrion-eaters?” asked Fird.

“I guess,” said Savn.

Fird’s mouth twitched. “Then is onward.”

They continued, Fird ducking to traverse corridors that Savn was able to walk through upright, until they saw the flickering glow of the torches.

Savn called out, “Vlad? It’s Savn. Fird, the fruit-seller, is with me.”

There was a rustling sound ahead, and in the dim light Savn was able to make out Vlad turning his head. “Good,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

“How are you feeling?”

“Weak. But a little better, I think.”

“Great.”

“Sorry I missed our appointment, Fird. Glad you got the note.”

Fird was watching Vlad carefully. He said, “Note is arrived, but the wondering is from its means of travel.”

“Does it matter?”

“Magic is that of the Easterner, is to wonder what else you is to have done or will do?”

“For one thing,” said Vlad. “Give you a certain amount of gold, in exchange for answering some questions. Have you been to—” He paused and looked at Savn.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“Please,” said Vlad. “I’m sorry, but I’d rather this not be overheard.”

Savn shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care, and, taking one of the burning torches, wandered back out of the cave. To his surprise, the larger of the jhereg accompanied him. He was even more surprised to realize that this no longer bothered him. Finding a comfortable-looking spot beneath a tree just outside the cave, he put out the torch and settled down with his back against the trunk. The jhereg perched on a low branch of the same tree.