by James Evans
“Only those I couldn’t spare,” he said eventually, “those who threatened me or my associates. I don’t enjoy killing.”
“Maybe not,” she said, anger replacing her fear, “but you don’t hold back, do you? The men in that office, did you have to kill them all? Were they really that much of a threat to you? To us?”
“Yes, they were a threat,” said Marrinek, louder now and becoming angry himself, “you saw how they treated us when they thought we were weaker than them. I’d have spared them if I could but they gave me no choice.”
They glared at each other for a long moment then Madame Duval looked away.
“There was never going to be a way to do this without breaking heads and spilling blood,” said Marrinek, calmer, now, as the sudden anger drained away, “and it’ll have been worth it if it keeps us safe.”
Madame Duval snorted. “That’s a big ‘if’. What if it just makes us bigger targets for the gangs or the Watch or the nobles? What then?”
“Then we’ll deal with the problems as they arise,” said Marrinek firmly, “and in the meantime we’ll sleep more easily and live more comfortably knowing that we’re at the top of the heap rather than the bottom.”
He reached into a pocket and pulled out a purse. He tossed it to Madame Duval, who let it fall into her lap, too tired, or to angry, to try to catch it.
“That’s your cut, in gem stones.”
Madame Duval looked down at the purse then tipped its contents into her lap. A fortune in cut stones twinkled back at her and she idly picked one up for a closer inspection.
“These are better than the last lot of stones you had me fence,” she murmured eventually, her anger forgotten as the scale of her unexpected wealth became apparent. Marrinek nodded.
“I couldn’t have done it without you. You earned it.”
“Ha, maybe,” she said, doubtful as to the true impact of her contribution. She scooped up the gems and slid them back into their bag. Then they sat in silence for a few moments, each nursing their own pains and thoughts, until Nandy came in with a tray of food and drink. Marrinek took a plate of stew and a lump of bread and ate slowly while Madame Duval helped herself to cake.
“What about the house?” he asked between mouthfuls when they were alone again.
Madame Duval poured them each a glass of red wine and sat back down in her chair. She took a sip then said, “Done. It wasn’t cheap but it’s yours. Well, it’s rented in my name - I didn’t think you would want to be tied to the paperwork - and you can move in tomorrow.”
Marrinek nodded as he chewed.
“Good, many thanks. And the tailor?”
“Coming to your house, tomorrow at noon. The twins have been measured and fitted; their first set of clothes should arrive tomorrow with more to come. By the end of the week you won’t recognise them.”
Tailors. Marrinek shivered at the thought. He hated being measured for clothes; the whole experience left him cold, as if he was being fleeced by someone selling him extra sleeves. He grimaced at the thought; the people he trusted to clothe him were doing so by taking the figurative shirt from his back, always trying to add a little lace here or a slash of coloured velvet there and charge him more for the privilege.
He sighed and took another sip of his wine. It was unfortunate but he knew that without the right clothes the nobles of Vensille wouldn’t even notice him, let alone talk to him.
“Where are the twins now?”
“Upstairs. They wanted to get back to their reading. I have no idea what they’re studying but they certainly seem keen.” She looked at him questioningly.
“Yes, well. About that. I’m going to send them to a tutor some evenings; could you spare Shad to walk them over there, to Mr Eaves’ shop around the corner, just for an hour or so? We can make other arrangements later but I’ll be here this evening in case of trouble.”
Madame Duval raised an eyebrow.
“You want Shad to babysit for you, is that right?”
Marrinek shifted uneasily.
“I can’t give the twins everything they need; it’s better this way. They’ll get a more rounded education if they have contact with some, er, specialist tutors. And they seem to like Shad.”
“Well, that last bit at least is true. Very well, but just this once.”
Marrinek smiled at her.
“Thanks. It’ll be good for them to get lessons from someone other than me, help them broaden their perspectives a little.” He put down his plate and finished his wine.
“I’m going to talk to the twins and then tomorrow we’ll move next door and let you get back to running your business.” He stood and walked to the door, then turned back.
“What news of servants? The house is all very well but…”
“Yes, yes, I’ve thought of that,” said Madame Duval, clearly irritated, “I’ve engaged a housekeeper for you - she ran the house for the previous owner - and she will find servants. It will take a few days, maybe a couple of weeks, but she knows what she’s doing. She will be there tomorrow morning to open the house.”
“Good,” said Marrinek, nodding, “and I’ve asked Eaves to find someone to fix your windows.”
Madame Duval looked confused.
“My windows? What’s wrong with them?”
“They’re weak, easily broken. Eaves will find someone to harden them so that neither glass nor wood will break. I’ve done your doors but doing the windows as well should make you a bit more secure if the Watch, or anyone else, comes calling. Eaves’ man should be here tomorrow, might take a few days in total but it’ll be worth it.”
Madame Duval looked at him sceptically.
“Well, if you think it’s necessary…”
“I do. Trust me,” and he closed the door behind him as he left.
Upstairs the twins were reading, sitting in the window to make the most of the light. They looked up as Marrinek entered the room. He looked at them for a few seconds, remembering the harsh treatment he had received at the hands of his own Master and tutors, then he shook his head and walked over to sit beside Floost, leaving Bone Dancer propped against the wall.
“How are you finding Jensen?”
Floost wrinkled her nose.
“Some of it’s interesting but mostly it’s just weird. Like this bit,” she flicked back a few pages then read aloud, “’Where two complementary talents are deployed to produce an effect of coherent and continuous change in an atypical system, particularly one meeting the requirements of Dreng’s extrapolation, the corollary of the second basic law of para-thermal energy covering the preservation of mass must be considered and allowed for.’ I don’t even understand all the words!”
Marrinek smiled. Her frustration was understandable, unlike the prose that had prompted it.
“That’s Volume III, yes?” Floost nodded.
Marrinek took the book from her and flicked through the pages, stopping at one point to read a few sentences.
“I graduated before I got around to reading Volume III and I’ve never found the time to go back to it. That paragraph is probably the most I’ve ever read.”
Floost’s face was a picture.
“Well why did you give it to us, if you haven’t even bothered to read it?”
“The first two volumes are more useful but I thought you might find III of some interest. Concentrate on the other books for now; come back to this one later.” He put the book down on the floor.
“But right now I have something else for you. I’ve spoken to Mr Eaves, you remember the charm seller?”
The twins nodded.
“I’ve arranged for him to give you lessons in basic charm making and other related subjects. Shad is waiting for you downstairs to take you to your first lesson. After that we’ll see how things go but I plan to arrange a succession of other tutors.”
“Can’t you teach us?” said Darek, frowning.
“I could but I don’t have time and I want you to begin networking amongst the talented
community. Trust me, this is the best plan.” He paused, then continued in Khem. “And would it be fair to assume you speak only Gheel?” The twins stared blankly at him, which was all the answer he needed.
“And you’re going to have to learn Khem,” he said, switching back to Gheel, “I’ll tutor your myself, starting tomorrow.” That wasn’t as well received as he had hoped and both twins grumbled. “It’s the language of power,” Marrinek said firmly, overriding their objections, “and a good grounding will be necessary for your education and later life.”
He stood up, and the twins fell silent but he could see that they weren’t happy.
“Most of the books on power are written in Khem. Learn it, and you’ll be able to broaden your reading range and get away from translated horrors like that hideous Jensen.” That seemed to cheer them, especially Floost, for whom access to books was a particular joy.
“I’ll see you again tomorrow and we’ll run through some more exercises after we’ve moved into the new house next door. Now, though, it’s time for your charms lesson.” He paused but neither twin moved. “Hurry now, and listen carefully to Mr Eaves.”
“Should we take anything with us?” asked Floost, standing and smoothing her dress.
“No. Concentrate on his lesson and we will review tomorrow. Eaves will supply anything you might need this evening. And be polite - you’re representing me, remember, and I would have you make a good impression.”
The twins nodded and hurried out of the room to find Shad. Marrinek waited till the sound of their footsteps on the back stairs had died away then he put down his pack, removed the knife from his belt and kicked off his shoes. Picking up Bone Dancer, he spent the next hour working repeatedly through the forms.
As he was finished his routine he remembered the book that Eaves had given him and he spent the next half hour or so flicking through its pages and reviewing the moves it suggested. The style was a little unusual but he found a few interesting variations to the forms that might be considered standard in stick fighting. He practised the new forms as he waited for the twins.
By the time the twins returned Marrinek had finished his practice and was lying on the floor reading volume three of Jensen. It was, he had to admit, a book of limited value to the experienced practitioner and of almost no value at all to the novice. He tossed aside the book when the twins came in.
“I had expected you back some time ago. How was it?”
The twins looked at each other, sharing something that Marrinek couldn’t catch.
“Good,” said Darek, “he showed us how to use the tools and how to use them to work wood.”
“And what were you able to do with the tools?”
“He wanted us to control the wood so that we could change its shape and write our names in it. It’s difficult but you made it look so easy!” said Floost, clearly frustrated, “The wood responds strangely; sometimes it runs like melted butter and other times it just sits there doing nothing.”
Marrinek was impressed, although he didn’t let it show. Sculpting wood was not an easy skill to acquire and most practitioners never progressed beyond basic manipulation. Many were unable to work wood at all, relying on experts like Eaves for any charms or wood working they required.
“It’s not an easy skill to master. But you managed to make the wood respond?”
Both twins nodded.
“That is good, very good. When is your next lesson?”
“The day after tomorrow. Mr Eaves wants us to practice tomorrow and see him again the following morning with the best piece that we’ve made.” said Darek.
“Good. Tomorrow afternoon you can show me what you’ve achieved and I will help you to improve. For now, bed.”
He stood up and walked to the door.
“I have things to do. Good night.”
The next morning the housekeeper, Aimes, opened the front door of the new house to Marrinek and Madame Duval. A prim, unsmiling woman, Aimes gave the impression of never having enjoyed a day of fun in her life whilst at the same time embodying an almost machine-like level of efficiency. From the moment they met, Marrinek disliked her but if she ran a tight household and kept him supplied with clean shirts he decided he could tolerate a little coldness. Madame Duval introduced them before excusing herself and leaving them to review the rooms and talk about the practicalities of managing a large household.
The house itself was grand, although much less than a palace, and would have been highly fashionable about five decades ago. Marrinek inspected the ground floor, the courtyard and stables, the cellars and kitchens, the bedroom suites, the servants’ quarters and the attics until, eventually satisfied that all was in order, he nodded to Aimes.
“Good. How many servants do you need, Aimes?”
“A cook, two maids, a footman, a butler, a valet for you, sir, and a groom. Cook starts tomorrow with the maids, the groom the day after and I have an idea about a butler and a valet, sir.”
“Good. I will leave the arrangements to you, Aimes, but be sure to hire people you can trust.”
“Of course, sir,” Aimes sounded slightly insulted with the suggestion that she might consider anyone she hadn’t personally approved, “some of the rooms need repairs, sir, and we will need funds to run the household.”
Marrinek pulled out a purse and tossed it to her.
“Start with that, let me know when you will need more. Get Eaves, the charm-maker, to find someone to harden the windows and doors. You know him?”
“No, sir, but I will find him.”
“I have already spoken to him so he knows what needs to be done and he has money in-hand to cover expenses. I want the work completed as quickly as possible; talk to Eaves about what’s practical but get two or three people working on it if possible.”
“Very good, sir. Might I ask why the work needs to be done?”
Marrinek walked over to the nearest window and rapped his knuckles against one of the small panes.
“Fragile, easily broken. Hardening frame and glass and doors will make them almost unbreakable, which ought to stop people kicking their way into the house to murder us in our beds.”
Aimes looked shocked again, as if being murdered in your bed was something that couldn’t happen simply because she would never permit it. She nodded, although it was clear that she had her doubts.
“I will make the arrangements, sir.”
Aimes had worked in large households all her life and she understood the value of fulfilling the sometimes bizarre requests of her employers and difference between when it was, and when it was not, appropriate to ask questions about their deeper reasons.
“Madame Duval has told me that the tailor will be here at noon, sir but that otherwise the day is free from visitors. Some of the rooms are woefully under furnished but there are three usable bedrooms and the front drawing room should be comfortable. Should I acquire furniture for the other rooms, sir?”
“Yes, Aimes, do that please. Make it of good quality but not ostentatious; sensible and workmanlike, not gaudy. I want visitors to feel welcome and to be comfortable, not intimidated by the overbearing trinkets of wealth.” She nodded and turned to leave.
“Oh, and no faux Imperial furniture or imported rubbish, Aimes. Find good local pieces that reflect Vensille’s history and tradition and culture.”
She nodded again.
“As you wish, sir. Shall I serve coffee in the drawing room?”
“Yes, Aimes, thank you.”
The housekeeper disappeared toward the kitchen and Marrinek walked through the near-empty rooms, settling himself into an armchair in the drawing room. He steepled his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of the chair, and closed his eyes, thinking and resting. At some point Aimes reappeared with coffee and, later, reappeared to remove the empty cup, replacing it with a small plate of elegantly cut sandwiches.
The tailor came and went without incident, promising to deliver a range of clothes suitable for the highest echelons of Vensille
society with the first items arriving within a few days. Alone again in the drawing room, Marrinek resumed his meditation until the twins interrupted, bursting into the room as they explored the house.
“There’s so much space,” said Floost, excited. Marrinek opened his eyes and looked up.
“Aimes has shown you to your rooms?”
“We’re on the second floor,” said Floost, nodding, “at the back of the house overlooking the stables.”
“There is another room on that floor that we will use for practice and study. It’s empty at the moment except for a table but you can use it to work on the exercise that Eaves set you yesterday. Go now and we will talk again at dinner.”
Over a simple dinner of roast meat, spiced sauce, bread and vegetables the twins talked excitedly about their lesson with Eaves and the wood-charming exercise he had set them.
“But sometimes nothing happens to the wood for ages,” said Darek, frowning at his vegetables and poking at them with his fork, “and then if you push too hard it just seems to melt and flow, then it sets in a strange shape. It’s really weird.”
Marrinek looked at him, fork stalled halfway to his lips.
“The wood melts and flows?”
The twins nodded.
“And then you have to spend ages forcing it back into the right shape before you can start again,” said Floost, hacking inelegantly at her meat and stuffing a lump into her mouth, “why does that happen?” she asked, looking across the table at Marrinek.
“Hmm,” said Marrinek, finally remembering his forkful of food, “well, it’s to do with how much power you use and the strength of your affinity with the material. Which tool are you using?”
“Mr Eaves said to use Twig, number three tool, but all we managed to do last night was make little dimples in the wood,” said Darek.
“Dimples? As if you were pressing the tool into the surface of the wood?”
“Yes,” said Floost, “but after practicing today we worked out how to get the wood to move around a bit and then, all of a sudden, it just kept happening.”
