Robert Asprin - Blood Ties

He considered pointing out that her betrayal of Zip made her decidedly untrustworthy in the eyes of any who knew of it, but decided against it. They were closing on one of the main reasons he had granted this audience, and he didn't want the conversation to veer off on unwanted tangents.

"Who, then? You?"

"I told you before that I'll never control this town again," he said, shaking his head. "I'm a criminal, and an ex-slave to boot. Even if those difficulties were overcome, too many of the factions have old grievances with me and mine. No, they might fight beside me, but they'd never willingly follow me."

"Then in your opinion, the best leader would be ..."

She let the question hang in the air. Mentally, Jubal took a deep breath and crossed his fingers.

"Your cousin. Prince Kittycat. He's been here long enough to be considered one of the locals, and he's very popular with those common folk who've had any direct contact with him. More importantly, he's probably the only figure of authority who has not directly opposed any of the necessary factions. If that isn't enough, he has closer dealings with the Beysib than anyone in town with the possible exception of the fishermen. The town will need the support of the fish-eyes, both financially and militarily, if we're going to stand against Theron. The proposed betrothal between Kadakithis and Shupansea will cement that alliance better than-"

"I know. I just don't have to like it."

Chenaya was on her feet and Jubal knew he was close to losing her.

"My cousin will never marry that bare-breasted freak! But gods, he's of royal birth-"

"... As is she," he snarled, rising to his feet to match her anger with his own. "Such an arrangement would not only be for the good of the city, it might well be necessary. Think on that, Chenaya, before you let your childish jealousies rule your tongue. If you continue to oppose the union, you might just become enough of a danger for the powers of Sanctuary to test your invulnerability."

"Are you threatening me?" Fear and rebellion mixed in her voice as their gazes locked.

"I'm warning you... as I've been trying to do through this entire meeting."

For a moment the rapport between them teetered on the brink of disintegration. Then Chenaya drew a ragged breath and exhaled noisily.

"I don't think I could give my blessings to the marriage, no matter how good it might be for the town."

"I'm not suggesting that you have to encourage it, or even approve," Jubal said soothingly, trying not to let his relief show. "Simply cease opposing the marriage and let events take their natural course."

"I won't oppose it. But I have much to think on."

"Good," he nodded. "You're long overdue for some thinking. I think you've had enough advisement to fuel your mind for one night. My men outside will see you back to your estate ... and tell them I said to find some clothes for you. It's not seemly for someone of your station to parade through the streets in a blanket."

Chenaya nodded her thanks and started to go, then turned back.

"Jubal, could I... will you be available in the future for additional counsel? You seem willing to tell me things that others avoid or overlook."

"Perhaps you are simply more willing to listen to me than to your other advisors. However, I'm sure our paths will cross from time to time."

"But if I need to see you at a specific time instead of waiting... ?" she pressed.

"Should anything urgent arise, leave word at the Vulgar Unicorn, and I will find a way to contact you."

It was a simple enough request, Jubal told himself. There was no reason at all that he should feel flattered.

"So, overall, what do you think of her?"

Saliman had joined Jubal now, and they were sharing the wine, the good vintage, as they discussed Chenaya's visit.

"Young," Jubal said thoughtfully. "Even younger than I had anticipated in many ways. She has much to learn and no one to teach her."

The aide cocked an eyebrow at his employer.

"It would seem that she impressed you."

"What do you mean?"

"For a moment there you sounded almost paternal. I thought you were out to appraise a potential ally or enemy, not looking for someone to adopt."

Jubal started to snap out an answer, then gave a barking laugh instead.

"I did sound that way, didn't I?" he grimaced. "It must be my reaction to misguided youth. So little could make so much difference. But you're right, that has nothing to do with our goals."

"So I repeat the question: What do you think of her? Will she be able to provide leadership in the future?"

"Eventually, perhaps, but not soon enough to be of immediate use."

"Which leaves us where?"

Jubal stared at the wall silently before answering.

"We cannot afford to have Tempus and his troops leave Sanctuary just yet. Something will have to be devised to keep them here. If we cannot arrange it through others, we may have to commit ourselves to the task."

Saliman sucked in his breath through his teeth. "Either way, it could be expensive."

"Not as expensive as an ineffectual defense. If the town opposes Theron, it will have to win. To try and fail would be disastrous."

"Very well," the aide nodded. "I'll have our informants start checking as to who's available and if their price is gold or anger."

"The other thing I haven't mentioned regarding Chenaya," Jubal said casually, "is that I've agreed to advise her in the future. I felt it would be wise to be sure that her development followed patterns suitable to our goals."

"Of course," Saliman nodded. "It's always best to plan for the long term."

They had been together a long time, and Saliman knew better than to point out to Jubal when he was using logic to try to hide his own sentimentality.

Pillars of fire and other such events notwithstanding, people in Sanctuary have routines, just as they do everywhere else in the world. Dawn comes up and thieves steal home from work, slipping into shambly buildings or into early opening taverns for a bite and sup or some early fencing. Brothel-less whores slouch out of the Promise of Heaven, or make their way up from the foggy streets by the river, to go yawning back to their garrets or cellars before the sun makes too much mockery of their paint. And people of other walks of life fullers, butchers, the stallkeepers of the Bazaar-drag themselves groaning or sighing out of their beds to face the annoyances of another day.

On this particular summer morning, one fragment of routine stepped out of a door in a much-rundown house near the Maze. People who lived in the street and were going about their own routines knew better than to stare at her, the tall handsome young woman with the oddly fashioned linen robes and the raven hair. One or two early travelers, out of their normal neighborhoods, did stare at her. She glared at them out of fierce gray eyes, but said nothing-merely slammed the door behind her.

It came off in her hand. She cursed the door, and hefted it lightly by its iron knob as if ready to throw the thing down the filthy street.

"Don't do it!" said a voice from inside; another female voice, sounding very annoyed.

The gray-eyed woman cursed again and set the door up against the wall of the house. "And don't kill anyone at work, either!" said the voice from inside. "You want to lose another job?"

The gray-eyed woman drew herself up to full height, producing an effect as if a statue of some angry goddess was about to step down from her pedestal and wreak havoc on some poor mortal. Then the marble melted out of her, leaving her looking merely young, and fiercely lovely, and very tall. "No," she said, still wrathful. "See you at lunchtime."

And off she went, and the people in the street went about their business, going home from work or getting up for it. If you had told any of them that the woman in the linen chlamys was a goddess exiled from wide heaven, you would probably have gotten an interested inquiry as to what you had been drinking just now. If you had told that person, further, that the woman was sharing a house with a god, another goddess, and sometimes with a dog (also divine)-the person would probably have edged away cautiously, wishing you a nice day. Druggies are sometimes dangerous when contradicted.