David Drake: The Gods Return

Carisa pleaded. "He's agood man." Ilna looked at the girl; without expression, she'd have said, but from the way Carisa cringed back there must've been something after all. "As men go," Ilna said quietly, "as human beings go, I suppose you're right. Though I'm angry enough as it is, so I don't see what you think to gain by emphasizing the fact." Carisa blinked. Her hand was over her mouth. "Mistress, I don't understand?" she mumbled. Ilna grimaced. There weresheep with more intelligence than this girl-who was Ilna's age or older in actual years. Still, Carisa was a good mother to orphans, which is more than Ilna herself could say. While Ilna was caring for Merota, a catman with a stone mace had dashed the child's brains out. "Master Heismat, look at me," Ilna said. Heismat's face twitched into a rictus. His eyes slanted to Ilna's left, then above her; he knuckled his balled fists. "Master Heismat," Ilna said. She didn't raise her voice, but her anger sang like a good sword vibrating. "I'm offering you an alternative to being hanged and your body dumped in a rubbish tip, but I assure you that Iwill go the other way if you don't cooperate."

"Mistress, I'm sorry," the laborer said. Tears were dribbling into his sandy beard and the rank stain darkening his gray pantaloons showed that he'd lost control of his bladder, but he was looking directly at Ilna as she'd demanded. "It'll never happen again, Iswear!" Ilna raised the pattern she'd knotted. It was quite a subtle piece of work, though no one else in the world would've understood that. Her patterns generally affected everyone who looked at them. That was true here as well, but only Heismat had thebackground to be affected. His memories were the nether millstone against which Ilna's fabric would grind out misery and horror. She smiled because she wasvery angry, then folded the pattern into itself and placed it in her left sleeve. She'd pick the knots out shortly. "All right," Ilna said, rising. "Mistress Winora, you'll have business to go over with the nurses." She looked at Heismat, who was blinking in surprise. "Master Heismat," she said, "you're free to go also." She considered adding, "And I hope I never see you again," but that would've been pointless and Ilna tried to avoid pointless behavior. Given that all existence struck her as fairly pointless, the whole business was probably an exercise in self-delusion, another thing that she'd have said she tried to avoid.

The train of thought made her smile. "But what happened?" Bovea said.

Heismat and Carisa were keeping silent, probably stunned by what they thought was their good luck. "Nothing happened, did it?" "Bovea, be silent!" Winora snapped as she stepped aside from the door. "You're in trouble enough already, girl." Ilna stopped and looked back. "Nothing happened unless Master Heismat takes a drink," she said, "which he's promised not to do. If he goes back on his word, he'll experience the slaughter of his family through the eyes of one of the Corl hunters involved. Every time he takes a drink." "But…," said Carisa.

Heismat simply sat with his mouth open. "A drink? You don't mean he can't have a mug of ale? Mistress, the water's not safe in Pandah with all the people coming in and the wells so shallow!" "I mean any drink," Ilna said. "Anything with alcohol in it. As for the water in Pandah, I quite agree. Your friend can find a place where the water's safer, I suppose." She smiled. "Or he can die," she added, eyeing the laborer critically. He stared back at her as blankly as a landed fish.

"We all die eventually, and there's nothing in Master Heismat's behavior that makes me wish he was an exception." Carisa lifted her apron and began sobbing into it. Ilna touched the latch lever to open the door; Winora put out her hand. "Mistress?" Ilna said sharply. She didn't mean the anger; not exactly, at any rate. She very much wanted to be shut of this affair, and Winora was prolonging it. "Mistress, do you wish me to continue in my position?" the older woman said. She met Ilna's eyes, but she was obviously frightened. She's terrified! "Yes," said Ilna. Am I as terrible as that? "You caught the business as quickly as reasonably could be done." She felt her lips lift in a cold smile again. Ilnawas that terrible, of course; but not to this woman whose only mistake was that she hadn't been perfect, that she hadn't foreseenall the things that could go wrong. A Corl kit had been crippled; worse had happened to a child named Merota because of Ilna's own mistakes. "And you told me at once instead of trying to hide it," she added. "That was wise." "Thank you, mistress," Winora said, shuddering in relief. She glanced over her shoulder, drawing Ilna's attention also. Heismat had his arms around Carisa and was trying to murmur reassurance to the blubbering girl. He probablywas a good man, as humans judged such things. "It would have been a mercy to have killed him instead," Winora said without emphasis. "Yes," said Ilna.

"But this way he's a better example to others." She opened the door.

Gilla, Mistress Winora's chief assistant, was standing in the hall with her back to the panel. When it opened she jumped aside and said, rattling the words out all together,

"Mistress-Ilna-this-gentleman's-come-to-see-you! I told him you'd said not to be disturbed and you wouldn't be, not while I had life and breath!" "Thank you, Gilla," Ilna said. From the way the plump woman was wheezing, she had very little breath left. Ilna felt a touch of real amusement that didn't reach her lips. Still, it lightened her mood. "Lord Zettin? As a matter of fact, I was hoping to see you today. Can we speak for a moment further after you've finished your business?" "Mistress," said Zettin, "it's your business that brings me here. I was furious when I learned that my staff had turned you away!

Is there some place we can get privacy?" He looked around. Faces ranging from infants to that of the aged charwoman ducked away from his angry glance. The building served not only as the foundation's office but as a temporary barracks for orphans who hadn't yet been assigned to a pair of nurses in the community. A high nobleman like Lord Zettin would've been an object of wonder even if he hadn't been wearing a dazzling parcel-gilt cuirass. "My business doesn't require secrecy," Ilna said, feeling her lips pinch over the words. It offended her that anybody might even think she was trying to hide something. "But we can sit in the garden, and I'm sure-" She looked at-glared at, she supposed-Gilla. "-that Mistress Gilla will see that we're not disturbed." "Yes, mistress!" Gilla said. "Whatever mistress says! Ah, would mistress and her guest like some refreshment while you confer?" "That won't be necessary," Ilna said firmly, leading her visitor through a reception hall in which six female clerks now worked on the foundation's accounts. In truth her mouth was dry from anger at Heismat, but she didn't want servants interrupting her with carafes and tumblers. This wouldn't take long. She didn't bother asking what Zettin wanted. Ifhe was thirsty, he could wait the length of a brief discussion also. Lord Zettin was thirty-one or two, quite young for someone in so senior a position. Before the Change, he'd commanded the fleet and the phalanx of pikemen which the oarsmen formed after their ships were drawn up on the beach. He'd gotten the job not only because he was keen and clever-which he was-but because Ornifal's wealthy nobility considered the position a lowly one. Ithad been lowly when Dukes of Ornifal claimed to be Kings of the Isles but had little control beyond the shores of their island. When Garric became Prince Garric and the real ruler, the fleet and phalanx became important-and Admiral Zettin showed himself to be skilled as well as clever. The Inner Sea became a continent at the Change and grounded the fleet.

Zettin now commanded the kingdom's new scouting forces, another job that established officers didn't want. The scouts were a mixture of hunters, shepherds, and catmen; they moved fast in small units which didn't bother with the baggage train of the regular army. From the scraps of conversation Ilna had heard from Garric, Liane and Sharina, Zettin was again doing very well. The house Ilna had taken for her foundation came with a courtyard garden. It had been not only ill-tended but awash in garbage-its most recent occupants had been renegade Coerli, and their immediate predecessors were bands of human pirates. So far as Ilna was concerned the courtyard could've stayed a wasteland, though of course the garbage had to go. Members of the new staff had made it a priority, though, and the orphans seemed to have thrown themselves into the work. In less than a month the apple trees and the cypress had been pruned, and the planting beds were bright with zinnias, tiny blue asters, and even a late-blooming cardoon. The flowers must've been transplanted; they certainly couldn't have grown so fast from seeds. Ilna sat on one of the two stone benches framing a small round table. She deliberately chose the seat in the sunlight rather than that shaded by the cypress. Her fingers were picking out and reforming the pattern they'd knotted for Heismat. She didn't need to be able to strike Zettin with despair or paralyzing fear, but she could. So long as she was in the sunlight, he was certain to see whatever she lifted before his eyes. "I apologize for my staff, Mistress Ilna," Zettin said, sitting straight up on the opposite bench. A good thing he isn'tin the sun; that breastplate would be blinding. "They didn't realize who you were and mistakenly thought that they shouldn't interrupt the morning briefing." Ilna opened her mouth. Before she could get a word out, he continued, "Mistress, I know I've seemed to be arrogant and not to, well, show the courtesy I should. But please believe me, I've always had the kingdom's interests at heart. If I push hard and don't always listen as well as I might, that's the cause. Believe me, I never would've allowed you to be turned away!" Ilna frowned, not at what the nobleman was saying but because he was saying it to her. He thinks he's offended me. That was reasonable; he must by now be used to his pushiness offending people.