"Lupan, it is red like Lupan!" exclaimed Pelmore at once, looking relieved. This was a very reasonable answer. Moles all tend to be brownish, orange, or even red.
"Ladyship, would you—?" I began, but Lavenci was already drawing up her skirts to expose her left thigh's entirety.
The skin was completely without flaw. She let her skirts fall again.
"So, you say you spent the night with Ladyship, you say you left her naked at dawnlight, yet you don't knew what she looks like without her clothes on? Who ever hearp of a lover not being allowed to see his lass naked?" Pelmore's face reddened, but he did not reply. "I put it to you that you escorted Ladyship to j her room's door, where the most you might have been granted was a [goodnight kiss before that door was locked in yojir face. You !' then found a ladder in the stables, waited until she was asleep, rthen climbed in through her window, which was open due to | the night being hot. You boasted about bestriding Ladyship nine times, but I would wager a month's pay that tjhe only dal-i liance you got last night was a wank in the stabl0s. What do I you say to that?"
The taproom was in absolute silence while Pelnjiore thought through possible answers, and the probable consequences if he got anything else wrong.
"I do admit it, I robbed Ladyship but I did not lie with her," he said, staring at the floor. "And I boasted of sharing her bed so that folk would think better of me."
"Good, good, I am glad to have that matter set right. Now then, there was a song being sung about your lies all morning, one beginning with the word
'nine.' I want the composer of the song to step forward." A ginger-haired man with a scraggy beard was pushed forward by those around him. Without any prompting he dropped to his knees and emptied his purse.
"Very good," I said softly. "Now get out of here and start running—and do not ever stop running, except to sleep. Ever. If you do stop, and I come to hear of it, you will not live to see another evening. Neither will anyone else who ever sings your song."
He hurried out, and I never set eyes on him again. I turned back to Pelmore.
"How many times have you ever managed to get it up with the local girls in one night?" I asked, pausing slightly after each word for added emphasis.
"I, er, that is ... twice?"
"Goodness! As little as that? I cannot imagine how you added one plus one to get nine. Numeracy standards must be slipping, I blame the regent's cuts to temple-school subsidies. Constable Riellen?"
"Sir!"
"Gather up Ladyship's money, then escort Pelmore to the market to identify and buy back all that he stole and sold. Oh, and have Pelmore pull the landlord out of that wall, then take him along to carry Ladyship's things. I'll not have that filthy degenerate Pelmore touching anything of hers again. Lads, the rest of you are free to go. Pelmore, once the stolen items have been retrieved, you may consider yourself to have repaid your debt to society in general and Her Ladyship in particular."
Perhaps a dozen heartbeats passed between Riellen standing aside from the door and the uninjured drinkers vanishing from the taproom. I had expected the serving maid to dash away at the first opportunity, but she sidled up to me instead.
"Inspector, sir, about last night—" she began.
"Yes?"
"How can I ever make up for throwing that wine at you?" "What is your name?" I asked, suddenly feeling very, very tired.
"Mervielle."
"Fetch me a towel cloth, if you please."
I walked over to Lavenci, who was being supported by Madame Norellie.
"Your name and honor, returned intact," I said as I gave her a bow.
"I—I can scarcely believe what you just did," she replied, sounding as if she were in a castings trance.
"Madame Norellie, what is your assessment of Ladyship?" I asked.
"She will have to come home with me. She has gashes and broken bones all through her hand."
"Bathhouse first," said Lavenci dreamily. "The stink of Pelmore's body is worse than the pain."
"I have a bathtub, Ladyship," said Madame Norellie. "Now come along." With that they left, Lavenci trailing drops of blood from her hand across the taproom floor. I stood alone, leaning against
the wall, my emotions and body utterly spent, and my father back on his leash again. Mervielle entered with a towel cloth.
"That dress that Ladyship wears, it looks to be your style," I observed.
"Aye sir, I felt sorry for her, like, and lent her a £pare." "You have a kind heart. Please accept a florin." "From you sir? But the lady—" 'Can't easily untie a purse just now."
XXX
I went out to the stables and washed in the horse (rough, then made my way up to my room wearing only the towel cloth and carrying my filthy clothes in a chaff sack. Afteir changing, I made my way out into the streets and away to Madame Norellie's. Several injured drinkers from the Bargeman's Bar-t rel were outside, awaiting her services, but at the sight of me they shrank back and gestured to the cottage door. I knocked, and called out my name. Madame Norellie called for me to enter. The front door opened into the kitchen. Lavfenci was ly-ing in a vat of steaming, soapy water, her bandaged hand over the edge and resting on a stool. She greeted me sleepily as I entered.
"I gave her a philtre to dull her senses," explained Norellie. "She is very drowsy."
Norellie had me sit at the table, with my chin resting on my hands. After examining my forehead and arm she began to collect bowls, jars, and cloths.
"Lucky I had some water on the boil," she said as she began to wipe my face with a scalding hot wet rag. "Even luckier I had some left after doing a bath for Ladyship. Bad humors abound in unboiled water. Never clean a wound with water that's unboiled." '[What about for all the lads outside?" I asked. 'They can wait. You have a very nasty gash in your forehead, Inspector, and a lesser one in your arm. Hold still, I'll have you sewn back together in less time than it takes to beat the stuffing out of a wharfmaster." I sat with my elbows on the table and my chin resting on my hands. Norellie wiped my wounds with softiething that smelled sharp and stung exceedingly. She began to sew.
"I really should return your four florins," said Norellie as she worked. "I did not treat your curse-headache last night."
"No, but you did listen to Riellen for a couple of hours," I said, trying to hold myself steady. "Spare a thought for me, I've had to listen to her for three years."
"The whole town's talking about what you did for Her Ladyship."
"Well, you know what it's like with those noblewomen. They don't have a clue, always need a hero to look after them. No hero was to hand, so she had to make do with a Wayfarer."
I gave a little wave to Lavenci, and was rewarded by a smile in return.
"Sit still," chided Norellie as she finished with my arm and turned to my forehead. "This is quite a gash." "I've had worse." "How did it happen?" "I fell on someone's ax."
"A lot of people seem to do that. Inspector. I must insist that you take back two of your four florins."
"Keep them for this work. You sew up wounds more gently than Riellen." Footsteps hurried along the street outside. The feet stopped, and there was an exchange of urgent-sounding words with the men awaiting treatment. Someone banged on the door. Because I had neglected to push the latch home, the door swung open. Pelmore stood before us, his fist poised to continue knocking and his mouth hanging open. Norellie gave a sharp gasp of surprise, then continued to tie off her stitch.
"Come in, lad," Norellie said. "What brings you here, of all places?"
"Madame, I have a terrible affliction," he babbled, nervously glancing from Lavenci, to me, to Norellie.
"I didn't hit you all that hard, did I?" I called. "Oh, how rude of me. May I introduce Madame Norellie? This is Pelmore."
"Plough-bore, yes, we've met," said Norellie. "Cured him of the love pox last month. Hope you've been more careful where you've been shoving that thing, Pello."
Suddenly Pelmore fell to his knees beside the table, his hands raised and clasped as
if he were praying to me.
"Mighty, wise, and merciful inspector, forgive me, forgive me!" he cried.
"Lift this curse from my body." I
"What do you mean?" I asked. "I'm a Wayfabr inspector, we're meant to arrest people doing magic, not do it ourselves."
"But my curse, my blight, my deformity!" he cried, terror in his tone.
"I have no idea what you mean," I replied.
"Great and mighty sorceress," Pelmore sobbed, shuffling over to Lavenci's tub on his knees. "Have mercy on me, lift your curse."
"Go 'way," mumbled Lavenci, splashing water at him with her right hand. "If you call me sorceress ... sue you ..."
"Madame healer, can you help me?" Pelmore pleaded, shuffling back to the table, still on his knees.
"Perhaps, but before taking your money I shall need to see the problem," replied Norellie as she tied off the fifth stitch in my forehead. Pelmore stood up and pulled on the drawstjring of his trousers. They fell to the floor. Pelmore's peni$ resembled nothing more closely than half a small, pink fig.
"I didn't do that!" I said once I had recovered my breath. "Wish I had," said Lavenci, who then yawned widely. "Pelmore, you need a drink," said Norellie.
"There's mugs and ajar on the shelf under the window." "There's ants in this mug." "They're probably drunk and can't crawl out.' Pelmore shook the ants out and poured himself a measure »of wine. He drained it in a single swallow.
"Constancy glamour," observed Norellie, tying a knot in my sixth stitch. "Only hedgerow sorcery can lift them, and I don't practice any sort of sorcery." At this point Riellen entered, striding straight through the open door without even knocking. She had a large and bulging pack on her back.
"Sir, Revolutionary Sister Mervielle said you were here. I wish to report that most of Lady Lavenci's things have been retrieved and— Oh good heavens!"
"Riellen, you do, of course, know Pelmore," I said, my head still featuring a needle and thread. "What do you make of his, well, condition?"
"Er, my mother told me to expect something a little bigger," Riellen managed.
"Consistency gammon?" asked Pelmore, staring at Norellie with suspicion.
"But sir, you, you, you ..." stammered Riellen, pointing in my direction.
"Norellie is sewing up my wound."
"Ladyship!" shrieked Riellen, catching sight of Lavenci. "You're undressed."
"It is called a bath, young woman," said Lavenci. "Most people ... do not have enough of them."
"But, but, people can see, er, lots of you!"
"Silly prude...."
Riellen put a hand to her head, swayed, then steadied herself against the wall.
"Riellen, you need a drink," said Norellie. "Wine and mugs are under the window."
"But I am on duty."
"Consider it for medicinal purposes only," I suggested.
"In that case, sir, thank you, I accept."
Riellen picked up a mug, stared at the ants therein, drank several mouthfuls of wine straight from the jar, then sank to the floor, where she sat cross-legged. Lavenci's pack was still on her back.
"So, what have you to report, Riellen?" I asked.
"All Lady Lavenci's stolen things have been recovered, except for the medicinal oils in some of the phials. The oils had been discarded, and the phials were on sale for their own value."
"Doesn't matter," said Lavenci, struggling to stay awake under the onslaught of warm bathwater and Norellie's potion. "Can go a week... without."
"Oils?" Pelmore exclaimed. "Could they have been used to cause this, er, contingency hammer?"
"Respectable woman," slurred Lavenci. "Not sorceress."
"Well someone did this!" shouted Pelmore.
"Indeed," said Norellie, pushing her needle into my skin for the last stitch, and causing me to flinch. "And the term is constancy glamour."
"Was it you?" asked Lavenci and Pelmore together.
"Oh no," said Norellie. "I'm just a healer. I don't do glamours."
"You mean castings?" I asked.
"No, it's a constancy glamour," said Norellie.
"J've not heard of glamours," I said. "Are they a type of sorcery?"
"Yes and no. There were once some very skilled healers on Helion Island, far away in the Placidian Ocean. The Helionese men were fishers and merchant sailors, seamen who stayed away from home a lot. Some abused the trust of their wives while in distant ports, and this annoyed those wives. Then one of the healers developed a type of ... well, it is hard to describe a glamour. Suffice it to say that the healer was able to link couples together by means of an act of intimacy."
"What do you mean, link together?" asked Pelmore, scratching his blond curls.
"Shut up," mumbled Lavenci.
'The woman would go to a healer, who would fashion a constancy glamour. That glamour ensured that the woman and her husband could not cheat upon each other. The woman would experience violent pains in her head at the touch of any man except for he who had been the last to arouse her in the most intimate fashion possible. That man was given a more ... physical limitation." There was silence for a moment. Norellie tied off the last stitch in my forehead, then began to bandage me.
"Inspector?" ventured Lavenci. "When ... slapped you. Remember? Had head pains, like hot needles."
'fMy apologies" was all that I could think to say.
'fHow long ... lasts?" asked Lavenci.
TUntil someone knowledgeable lifts the glamour, or until seven years after one of you two dies," explained Norellie. "Of course if you and Pelmore got into bed together again, you could enjoy each other to the fullest possible—"
"Never!" rasped Lavenci, glaring up at Pelmore.
{Anyway, how could I do it?" demanded Pelmore, pointing is groin.
"All done, Inspector," said Norellie, patting my cheek.
"What about me?" demanded Pelmore.
"Pelmore, while you and your constancy-glamour partner are in physical contact, your, ah, male talents are temporarily restored."
'Think I prefer the 'die' option," said Lavenci.
"There are checks against such easy solutions," said Norellie. "Lots of them. Remember, should one of you die, there will be a seven-year wait for the glamour to lift."
"So ... Pelmore dies ... I wait seven years?" asked Lavenci.
"Yes."
"Almost worth it."
"You will pardon me if I don't stand up," I said to nobody in particular. "All that sewing has me a little faint. So, a constancy glamour is not a magical casting?"
"Not real magic," said Norellie in a detached sort of way. "Not magic as we know it, anyway. Hedgerow enchantment. Nothing to do with etheric castings and forces. Glamours are magic that are ... magical. No talent is required, just knowledge of incantations, herbs, and gestures, and belief that the glamours will work."
"Diomedan expression, enthre d'han," said Lavenci. "Glow of strangeness. Thas
... glamour."
"So you have heard of them?"
"Yes. Sorcerers hate 'em. Cannot be controlled. Anyone ... can use 'em."
"As I said, fishwives on Helion Island had them inflicted on their husbands, but the practice died out for reasons that are probably obvious," said Norellie.
"Lads would soon be nervous about marrying a Helionese girl," I suggested.
"Indeed. Young men fled the island at every opportunity, never to return. It got to the point where there were five women for every man on Helion, then a vigilance committee of women was formed. They swept through the island one night and slew every healer, whether they knew the practice of glamours or not. First they tortured them, however, and extracted the names of those who had bought constancy glamours. These women were also killed. I believe that some
twelve dozen women perished at the hands of thtir sisters in that carnage. Helion was then voiced about as an island overflowing with women, all desiring to entertain and enchant men in a strictly nonmagical sense. It was, however, a bad place to fall sick until new h
ealers migrated there/'
"Yet you know of the glamour's practice," I skid, looking Norellie in the face. J
"True. A lamplight woman, a harlot, had borrowed a book from one of the healers without that healer knowing of it. She thought to better herself through study, and eventually become a healer herself, but she was not on their guild's register. Thus she survived that terrible night, and so did the book. Apparently someone in Gatrov has read the book."
"But what am / to do?" demanded Pelmore.
"Oh do not despair," said Norellie. "You can rtill piss unhindered, and should this lady here touch you, yo|ur manhood will rise to the occasion."
"Rather bathe in pigshit," said Lavenci, settling deeper into her bathwater, then blowing a few bubbles. "Cold pigshit."
'Tow know so much about glamours," cried Pelmore, pointing at Norellie. "I'm betting you know how to conjure and lift them!"
"Anyone could," replied Norellie calmly. "Glamours are like knots. Pull on the right bit of string, and thej whole thing pops apart. Pull on any other, and the knot becotnes tighter. I suppose I could take a guess at the right bit of string."
'"Well pull on it!" demanded Pelmore.
**Oh no, the practice of magic is a criminal act, even for the purposes of healing. Danol is a Wayfarer, so he is obliged to alert the Inquisition, which would have me arrested—"
"You can't do this!" shouted Pelmore angrily, reddening and balling his fists.
"Riellen, if he gets violent, kill him," I said calmly. "I'll write it up as resisting arrest or something."
Riellen shook off Lavenci's pack and stood up, drawing her sal Pelmore's aggression dissolved.
"But it's not just," he whined.
"Neither is theft, and humiliating your lover of the night before," I pointed out.
"I served her tirelessly," mumbled Pelmore.
"So did ... horses pulling the coach ... that brought me here," Lavenci retorted, righting to stay awake. "Doesn't mean they're ... merry company ... in bed."
"Might I make a suggestion?" I interjected. "A field magistrate can authorize a dispensation for the practice of magic under extreme circumstances. In this case, it is to destroy a glamour that has been cast maliciously, so I think a case could be made."
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