Стивен Браст - Tiassa

“What?”

“I don’t know. The whole manor is a trap? There’s a trap in it? I’ve fallen into a trap?”

“You think?”

“I don’t know. Devera’s trapped, anyway. I don’t think anything. I’m guessing, trying to plug meaning into things to see if an answer pops out.”

Loiosh shut up. I continued downriver, thinking. There was a lot of truth to what I’d told him: there was something about this whole mess, the manor, the movement through time, that felt like there was a clue I wasn’t seeing, some key that would explain everything. But while you’re waiting for that flash of inspiration, keep picking up pieces. T-A-L … never mind, that one wasn’t that good. My point is, keep learning what bits of information you can while you wait for it all to make sense. Or, in this case, keep walking down the river.

“Okay, fly around, keep an eye out for anything unfriendly or interesting.”

They took off, I kept walking, taking it slow, looking around as well as I went. It was becoming dark, though the process seemed slower than it did in Adrilankha. Probably my imagination.

“Nothing so far, Boss. Think we should go back to where we arrived here and see if we can get back?”

“Think you can find it?”

“Not sure.”

“Let’s stay with this for a while longer.”

My mind kept coming back to Dark Water, and trying to make sense of the river having something to do with it—the cave emerging right on its bank had to mean something. Well, probably meant something. Might mean something.

One of the dangers in trying to solve riddles is a temptation to force answers where they don’t belong because things would look neat and pretty that way. I’d been aware of this since I started exploring the manor, but I kept falling into it, or nearly falling into it, anyway.

I made a point to note the softness of the ground, the sounds (more varied than near the ocean-sea, with the lapping of the water only the smallest part), and the complex mix of scents, with the smell of fish predominating.

I hadn’t walked that far from the cave—half a mile at the most, perhaps less—when I came to a curving bridge made of stone and wood. I crossed it, and continued in the same direction I’d been going. A few minutes later, Loiosh said, “Boss? There are buildings, people.”

“Where?”

“Just ahead of you. You’ll reach them in a few minutes.”

“Anything obviously threatening?”

“You mean, are there a bunch of Dragonlords hiding behind a wall looking like they want to jump out and cut you to pieces? No. I’d have mentioned that.”

“Sorry.”

A few steps later, following the river around a bend, I saw lights. There was a road not far from the river, so I followed it into the village. For reasons that I’m sure would make perfect sense if I knew more, the village was built on one of the steeper hillsides, rather than the relatively flat areas nearby. There were a couple of dark structures right on the bank, and a small pier, although no boat, extending out into the river itself.

The other structures were placed at various points up the hill, purely by chance as far as I could tell. Most of them were dark; a few showed faint flickering light, like maybe a candle was going, or there were the embers of a fire. The one exception was about halfway up: there was a lot of light coming from it, and as I got closer I saw there was a sign hanging in front of it, though I couldn’t read the sign at all. But I know what a peasant inn looks like; I’ve been in enough of them over the last few years.

I made my way up without meeting anyone. Now I could see the sign well enough to identify a painted ring of gemstones: diamond, ruby, emerald, sapphire, opal, pearl, and another one that I think was supposed to be a beryl. The paint was fresh enough to make me think it was renewed often, which meant the house was prosperous.

As I reached the door, Loiosh said, “With you, or wait out here, Boss?”

That was always the question. Walk in to a Teckla public house with two jhereg on my shoulders, or without? Intimidate, or try to go for the harmless and friendly approach?

“Windows?”

“Plenty of them.”

“Then wait outside for now.”

He didn’t say anything. I knew he didn’t like it, and he knew I knew, and he accepted it as part of the job.

I opened the door slowly, entered, and tried to make myself small. The place wasn’t as big as I thought it would be, so it probably had back rooms. There were about a dozen tables of various sizes and different kinds of construction, and what decoration there was consisted of poor-quality landscape drawings: a coastal scene, rolling hills with sheep, mountains. The kind of art you like if you want to be anywhere but where you are. At the back was a small stage, hardly big enough for two people to stand on, and I suddenly thought of Sara.

Three of the tables were occupied: all Teckla, of course, and varying ages. It wasn’t very busy, but that could be because it was still early, or because … that was when I realized that I had no idea what day of the week it was. I don’t know why that was so disorienting. I should probably have asked Gormin.

Of course, all the patrons were looking at me. I smiled and bobbed my head a little, and tried not to look too intelligent. The host was a tiny woman, for a Dragaeran, who looked like everyone’s grandmother.

I found a table in the corner near the door and sat down with my back to the room. It made me a little nervous without Loiosh and Rocza watching for me, but it’s how you invite the room to look at you. The grandmother hesitated, but eventually decided my money was good. I asked for wine and was brought a bottle I didn’t recognize. It was already opened, and she poured some and waited while I dug out a coin.

She left, and I drank and wished I hadn’t. It was all aftertaste, and none of the aftertaste was taste you’d want to be tasting either after or before anything. If I were a good person, I’d give you the name of the wine so you can avoid it, but I’m not, and also I don’t remember. I’m going to bet it was local, and that this was a terrible area for grapes.

I sat there and pretended to drink my wine for half an hour or so, and no one came to talk to me. To the left, no one tried to hit me over the head with a chair either, so we can call it even. I shifted to another chair at the same table where I could get a better view of the room. No one was looking at me, and everyone was engaged in quiet conversation, though what they had to talk about other than me I couldn’t guess. That’s not true, actually. I’d been around Teckla before, and I knew what they talked about. They weren’t talking about how the weather would affect the crop of—I don’t know, whatever they grew here. They also weren’t talking about how His Lordship treated them, or the share he took. They weren’t talking about how much better that plow was now that it’d been sharpened. No, they were talking about what their youngest had been up to, and about that project for the fair, and about how the local merchant had raised the price of dreamgrass and wouldn’t he be surprised when no one bought it anymore, and about that funny thing that had happened when the cat got too close to the mama goat as she was giving birth. I didn’t need to overhear them, because I’d been in a score of places just like it. The hostess watched the place like a mother bear, occasionally venturing out to fill an order.

The nearest table had two middle-aged women and a young man. I stood up and drifted over. “May I?”