David Drake - Out of the waters

Hedia turned to dodge back but stumbled to her knees from exhaustion. Three nets curled over her and tightened. The hunters would have caught her regardless before she pushed herself back into the brush.

"Who are you here to see?" Alphena demanded. She was tired and was feeling the strain besides, but she doubted she would have been able to sleep even if she hadn't needed to remain in the back garden with Anna.

The doorman and a carpenter's assistant held a wretched man who was clad in an uncertain number of layers. If they had been clean, he would have looked parti-colored; as it was, they were the uniform shade of filth.

He mumbled something. Alphena couldn't make out the words. "Speak up!" she said in frustration.

"Da noble Alpheno Saxo," the fellow said. He had a strong Gallic accent.

Alphena grimaced. She glanced over her shoulder toward Anna, but there was no need to bother the older woman with this one.

To the servants she said, "Beat him and throw him back into the street."

The carpenter pulled the maul from beneath his sash. Alphena snapped, "Don't kill him! Well, try not to kill him."

The beggar squalled as Alphena slouched back onto the garden bench. He was the third one who had tried to slip into Saxa's house with the steady trickle of delivery people, some of whom looked just as disreputable as he did.

Anna was busy with a growing array of paraphernalia. She had brought three small wooden chests from Corylus' apartment-members of Alphena's escort had carried them behind the litter-but she had sent a score of messengers out in the hours since they arrived here, to order more materials. Supplies, mostly in baskets or jars, arrived in response-sometimes with the messenger, but more often brought by unfamiliar men or women.

Some of the beggars living in the cul-de-sac had thought that gave them an opportunity. They had been wrong.

Alphena grinned at the recollection. At least the intruders had provided occupation for the considerable company of servants in the alley-footmen, messengers, watchmen. The deputy steward Callistus acted as paymaster, but he was under the observation of two clerks from the Accounts Division.

Alphena had directed a pair of servants to carry a bench just inside the open back gate. Though wicker, it would have been an awkward load for one person. Alphena had decided not to move it herself, especially while wearing the long sword. The servants could have lifted marble furniture as easily: it just would have required more of them.

There were scores lounging around nervously, after all. Nobody in the household seemed to have slept since Hedia was abducted.

Alphena stayed by the gate not so much because Anna needed help-she didn't-but so that anybody who arrived got a hearing instead of a blow. Several of the people bringing the old woman's orders would have been lucky to escape with their lives if they came to Saxa's door under normal circumstances.

Anna hummed quietly as she worked. Alphena didn't know whether the tune had magical significance or if Anna simply hummed while she was working. She seemed focused and content, if not exactly cheerful. Apparently her forebodings had been submerged as she lost herself in the activity.

Someone opened the interior door, peeked in, and quickly closed the door again. Alphena looked around, but she didn't see who it had been. Probably some servants, wondering what was happening. When they saw the Marsian witch at work in the middle of the garden, they fled as though demons were pursuing.

No demons as yet, Alphena thought, rolling the idea in her mind until it brought a grin. Perhaps soon, though.

Two deliverymen arrived at the head of the alley and were passed through after muttered questioning. The doorman escorted them to where Alphena waited. They carried a potted fruit tree between them on a handbarrow.

Why has Anna ordered a tree?

Before Alphena could speak, the man in front said, "A first-quality pomegranate in planting vase, a gift for Lord Saxa from his friend Publius Corylus!"

"But he says stick it in the ground, don't leave it in the pot," the other servant piped up unexpectedly. "Lord Corylus does, you know?"

"Shut up, Bello!" the leading man said over his shoulder. "And he's not Lord Corylus anyhow, he's a knight!"

Then, apologetically to Alphena, "But he did say that, yeah. He wants you to plant it where the dead pear was. Though it won't bear as well out of the pot."

"Bring it in, then," Alphena said. Then, thinking of the way the servants disliked the back garden-and what was going to happen tonight wouldn't change that feeling for the better-she added, "Say. Could you two plant the tree yourselves?"

The servants exchanged puzzled looks. The man in front said, "I guess we could, mistress, but, well… don't you have your own gardeners?"

"Never mind that," Alphena said. "There'll be an extra silver piece for each of you. And you'll find tools in the shed in the corner."

Why has Corylus sent us a pomegranate tree? Alphena thought. Well, she could ask him when they next met. For now, it was a simple enough problem to deal with.

The men set the pot close to the peach tree to keep it out of the way when they were digging, then sauntered to the tool shed. The younger one-he had a nasty gash in his scalp but it didn't seem to have harmed his cheerful nature-eyed Anna as he passed her, but there was no particular concern in his glance. He was just curious.

Anna ignored them both. Their presence wasn't even an interruption.

Another load arrived, this time a foreman leading two men who carried a large wicker basket. The sun was still below the eastern houses, but the sky was bright enough for Alphena to watch the servants questioning them. She thought of snarling to the officious fools to let the men through-they were obviously not beggars-but she held her tongue.

Maybe I'm mellowing. More likely, I'm just tired. She was certainly very tired.

"We're from Agrimandi the Potter," the foreman said officiously. His eyes had flicked down to the sword Alphena wore; disdain made his tone sharper than it might normally have been when greeting the person at a senator's door. "We've brought the basin that Lord Saxa ordered."

"Bring it in!" Anna called, no longer lost in arrangement of the powders and other articles that she was preparing. She grabbed both walking sticks and lurched upright. "That's what I've been waiting for. Bring it in, dearies."

The foreman hesitated. "Yes, do it!" Alphena said with a curt flick of her hand.

The potter's servants tramped through the gate. The goods would be made outside the city and brought in by wagon or more likely barge. Agrimandi might even be a jobber rather than a manufacturer; given the haste, the object had to be from the stock he had on hand rather than a special order.

"Set it there, by the well curb," Anna said, pointing with a stick. "Unpack it and set it on the ground."

The porters untied the top of the basket and withdrew a shallow basin from its packing of straw. It was four feet in diameter and glazed a bright blue; it was probably meant for a bird bath.

On the rim were four crouching figures. Alphena stepped closer and identified them: a gryphon, a chimaera, a basilisk, and a mantichore. She glanced at Anna but didn't speak.

"Ma'am?" said the older of the men who'd brought the pomegranate. His partner was at the ancient well, filling a bucket made from willow splits and tarred to make it waterproof. "We'll wet it down good and head back now, all right?"

The pomegranate was settled in the ground. The men had even trailed the extra soil neatly along the edges of the summer bedrooms in the inner corners of the garden.

"Yes, very good," Alphena said. "And take the pot back with you."