"Young, supercilious, arrogant, and dressed in robes made from better material than even you can easily afford," I put forward as a stab in the dark, while my Fistmates muttered something and glanced at each other. Oeran's eyes narrowed as my stab hit vitals, and the muttering was abruptly cut off.
"How in hell did you know?" the small ex-Blade demanded, straightening in his chair. "You couldn't have been there, or I would have known it. This isn't the north, where there are almost as many women visiting houses as there are men. Around here, the few female regulars are known on an individual basis."
"Let's just say I attended a different performance of the same pageant production," I told him. preferring not to go into detaifs. "The priest 1 ran into wasn't only the way I described him, he was also a liar, a sneak and a backstabber. The people in the village needed only a little help to throw him out on his outraged dignity, and I didn't mind supplying that help. That's where 1 got this dress."
"Well, the people in the house that night didn't start out being quite that cooperative," Oeran said, too distracted by his own problems to think to ask why I'd needed clothing. I'd decided on the way to the tavern to try getting help without mentioning who I was, leaving that little revelation for any last-ditch efforts I might have to make, and I hadn't yet changed my mind. 1 was sure Rull hadn't yet told the ex-Blade I was his Duke's daughter or Oeran would have said something, but I hadn't yet figured a way to ask for his help without changing that. If my Fistmates hadn't been there it would have been easier, but as it was . . .
"When I got to the scene of the shouting, every client in the house looked like he was ready to take off running and not stop for a week," Oeran went on, more slumped than relaxed in his chair. "The priest was ranting at them, telling them they were cursed forever, that when they finally went Home, Grail would slam the door in their faces and never Jet them in. He went on and on about how they had to do penance, how they had to pay for their sins, how they were
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forbidden to even think about ever doing anything like that again. Hell, he was all but foaming at the mouth, and a lot of those people he was tormenting were long-time friends of mine. 1 got mad, interrupted and told him he sounded more like a priest of Ramas, the god mercenaries swear by, than a priest of Grail, and that started him on me. I've never been backward about saying what I feel, not even to priests of Evon, so I jumped in with both feet.
"To make the story shorter than it was, it turned out the loud-mouthed fool was better at dictating and damning than debating and defending. He seemed to know less about the old-time teachings of Grail than I did, and I've been a follower of Evon since three years past my first decade. Once he began making mistakes and outright misstatements the men in the house stopped being afraid and started getting mad, and after a while I was able to have my men throw him out without more than two of my clients coming down offended and marching out after him. After that incident I decided it was more than time I found out exactly what was going on, and did what 1 should have done to begin with. I offered stiver for information, and just sat back as it began pouring in.
"Once I had the whole picture, I almost wished I didn't," he said with a sigh, looking down into his wine. "Apparently those new priests were moving in everywhere, insisting that Grail now demanded more from his followers, got on their backs and refused to get off, and were preaching against everyone who followed another god, especially Evon. They were being obeyed a lot more strictly in the villages than in the city, but that's only to be expected. City dwellers are more used to finding ways around laws they don't happen to like. Everything was in an unspoken turmoil, and those who knew about it were beginning to be worried."
"I don't blame them," Jak said, leaning forward in his chair and making it creak. "I've never heard a Servant talk against the other gods before, never even heard about it happening somewhere else. It would be nice to know what they expect to get before they back off."
"What gives you the idea they intend backing off?" Oeran asked, reaching for one of the tidbits on the tray his desk held. "They've begun the process of controlling every facet of their followers' lives, from no eating without their ap-
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proval to no sex without that same approval. If you want to start farming a new piece of land, you need the priest's blessing. If your wife wants to weave a new wool blanket, the wool has to be blessed as well as the loom. Any trip you want to make, any changes on your house, any additions to your family—it all needs approval. And anyone who tries disagreeing with them or fighting them meets with unfortunate—incidents.''
Oeran put the tidbit in his mouth and began chewing it, but no one took the opportunity to comment. I could see my Fistmates were feeling the same chill I was, and also probably wondering how something like that could have gotten started.
"They began by trying to beat up my clients, either on their way to one of my houses, or on their way home," Oeran said once he'd swallowed the tidbit and finished the last of the wine in his cup. "When I found out about it, I hired every backstreet bravo my agents could corner long enough to make the offer to, and that took care of it. The City Guard wasn't as safe walking or riding the streets as my clients were. That, of course, was when they started going after me instead, and I never realized they were so low they'd use my sister against me until it happened. That was when your Soft and Gentle came along, saving me from ending up in a pool of my own blood. I'd sent for those mercenaries when the attacks first started, intending to use them to wipe out as much of the garbage as possible and give us some breathing and thinking room. That tavern is now being used exclusively by those who have reports to make to me, or those who want to talk about what's happening without worrying that someone will overhear them and tell their priest. I was tempted to go ahead with my original plans, but I've just about decided that would be the worst thing I could do in light of this new mess. You must have heard about it; no one's getting into the city without being told."
"Yes, we heard," Rull said, making no effort to look in my direction. "The Duke is being held in his castle, along with two of his daughters. Are you sure the ones holding him are linked with these new priests of Grail? The City Guard seems to think it's rebels, and they haven't said why he's being held. We were assuming it was for ransom, and were
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wondering how much gold they were asking for, that it hasn't already been paid."
"They're not rebels, and they're not asking for gold," Oeran said, slowly refilling his cup with wine before rising to pass the bottle to Ham. "The city officials are keeping close on what they are being asked for, because they know they can't supply it under any circumstances. Even if they had what was being demanded of them, handing it over to free the Duke would probably get them all cut down once he was free. By his own sword with his own hand. I used my special connections to find out about it, and for once I really feel sorry for those officious idiots. They can't free the Duke without paying up, and if they pay up the Duke himself will have their heads and no one win blame him. They've gotten so desperate, they're ready to try storming the castle."
"Which will get them exactly nowhere even if they manage to raise an army, which they won't," Rull said, taking the wine bottle from Ham and passing it on to Foist without pouring anything into the cup he held. Ham had taken no more than a drop, Foist did the same, and Jak returned the bottle to Oeran with no more than a nod of thanks. That was another sign of how unrelaxed the four were, but Oeran didn't seem to notice.
"If the attack gets them nowhere, it won't matter in the least," Oeran said, clearly more upset now than he had been. "The thing they refuse to understand is that they probably will get somewhere, but not to a place they'll enjoy standing on. If that slime finds itself under attack, they could very well decide to hurt one of the little girls in order to stop it. They don't have to kill her, you understand, just�
��hurt her."
"Then they've got to be given what they're asking for," I said, finding it impossible to sit quietly any longer. Foist came away from his wall when I stood, putting a hand to my left shoulder, but I shook it off with all the fury and impatience crowding around inside me. " Tell me what they want, Oeran, and /'// see to it that they get it. I'd rather feed them three feet of steel, but— Tell me what they want."
"Take it easy, Softy, there are some prices no one can afford to pay," Rull said from my right, his hand refusing to be shaken off my arm. "Even if you plan on taking it back later, giving it up in the first place means you've let the
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enemy win. Find out what it is before you make any decisions about giving it to them."
With Jak and Ham also on their feet, Oeran was the only one left sitting. He stared around at us in bewilderment and confusion, trying to figure out what we were talking about, but I didn't have the time to wait until he did.
"All right, then, I'm simply asking," 1 said, not bothering to look at Rull in any useless effort to make him believe me. "Tell me what they're after, Oeran, and we'll let Even's code of honor decide. If it isn't dishonorable, it gets done."
"But that's just it," Oeran protested, slowly rising to his feet. "It's nothing other than dishonorable, and everyone knows it—not to mention impossible. For the release of the Duke and the two little girls, the ones holding them want to be given the Duke's eldest daughter in exchange, but she's disappeared!"
Chapter 14
I stood there silent for a moment or two, but not because I was particularly shocked—or especially surprised. All that back-trail sneaking around, avoiding the main road and that inn—wasted time and effort, all of it. Rather than searching uselessly, the enemy had come ahead and made sure 1 would be handed over to them whenever 1 returned, no matter where Td been in the meanwhile. I put my cup down on Oeran's desk then used the hand to rub at my left arm, so furious and frustrated I wanted to scream and break things. The enemy wanted me so badly they were prepared to go to any lengths to get me, but I didn't know why! Why was I so important to them, what could they possibly be after?
"So you can see why we can't give them what they want," Oeran said after the silence had gone on longer than he liked, his voice still sounding odd. "Very few people in these parts even know what the girl looks like, because she hasn't been home in years. And even if we knew where she'd disappeared to and got her back, what man of honor would hand her over in trade, even if the Duke didn't have his heart for it? There's nothing any of us can do."
"There's plenty to be done, especially for some of us," I said, straightening where I stood. "Who's in charge of dickering with those 'rebels,' and where can he be found?"
"No," Rull said very flatly before Oeran could answer me, the single word carrying the finality of the ages. "I'm Fist leader, and 1 say no. We'll find some other way."
"There is no other way, and I resigned from the Company," I answered, keeping my eyes only on Oeran. "What I
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do now is no one's decision but my own, and that decision is made. How do I get to the people in charge, Oeran?"
"So that's who you are," the small man said, staring at me with an expression even odder than his tone of voice. "And I thought when we first met that you might be in trouble with the Law, or someone the City Guard would soon be looking for. Where have you been, and what's going on?"
"It's a long story," I said, beginning to feel very tired. "Let's just say our friends up at the castle had me and then lost me, but now they're about to get me back. If I do it myself there's nothing of the dishonorable in it, and you can bet they'll end up sorry they asked for me. I don't know what they expect to get out of this mess, but I know damned well what they will get."
"I'm sorry, girl, but it just won't work," Oeran said, sympathy showing strongly in his dark eyes. "It may not be dishonorable for you to give yourself in trade, but if any of the city officials allow it they'll still have your father all over them afterward. They know that even if you don't."
"And there's something you're not considering," Rull said while Oeran looked uncomfortable over the way I stared at him. "What real guarantee do you have that those people will release your father and sisters once they have you? Are you willing to accept the word of men who use little girls and promise pain to get what they want? What will you do if you give yourself to them, and then they decide they don't want to leave your father in a position to send his fighters after them? And that burdening themselves with two small children is entirely unnecessary? You'll already be their prisoner, Softy, so what will you do?"
1 jerked my head around to finally look at him, seeing an intensity in his light eyes that wasn't usually there when we weren't in the midst of battle. Even with chilled fury savagely tearing me apart, I suddenly realized that Rull was in the middle of a fight, at least as far as he was concerned. At another time, I would have wondered what it was he was trying to win; right then all I did was pick up the cup I had just put down, turned deliberately, then hurled it against the stone wall behind and between Jak and Foist.
"You're absolutely right, the drink in this place isn't fit for washing a dog in," Oeran said from behind me into the
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most recent silence, and then 1 heard the sound of movement. "Let's all use the same side door we came in by, and go back to the house we started from. It's the best of my three, and you showed excellent taste picking it out of all the houses in this city, Rull. We needed this place to be sure of privacy for our conversation, but I suddenly find it more depressing than private. If anyone overhears us at the house, I'll let those mercenaries take care of it. At least it will give them something to do."
By then Oeran was in front of me, still looking at me with sympathy and not giving a damn that he'd been talking too much. The flow of words had been meant to calm me the way soft, meaningless noises sometimes calmed a war horse, and although they hadn't really made anything better, they also hadn't made it worse. I felt more than ever like striking out in all directions, incapable of believing that anyone, even my Fistmates, were really on my side, but at least 1 was able to keep from saying it aloud. I would have hated myself forever if I'd said something like that to the other four-fifths of my life, and then it came to me that Oeran was right. That bare room was depressing, and the sooner we left it the better.
"I left my horse stabled in that place across the street from here," I said, more than grateful that none of them had touched me even to pat my shoulder in comfort. "We can leave after I reclaim him. 1 paid enough to keep him safe; I'm not about to abandon him now."
"1 have a better idea," Oeran said, turning toward the door out of the room, possibly to hide the relief that had flashed in his eyes. 'Til send one of my men to get your horse, along with the silver piece I'm sure you were charged. Anyone who comes into my tavern isn't supposed to be charged, but the old thief running the stable likes to forget that every now and again. It will be my pleasure to get the silver back for you."
I almost told him that it wasn't my silver so I didn't particularly care, but that would have taken too much trouble. Instead of saying anything at all, I simply followed him out.
Oeran's house wasn't all that far away, at least not the way he reached it. One back street led into the next, a dark, arched walkway saved us from having to circle around, and we even passed quickly and briefly through a bake shop. If I started out wondering why we weren't riding, it didn't take
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long before my question was answered. But I was far too depressed to be wondering, and too upset over Jak's and Foist's low-voiced conversation speculating on how the enemy had gotten into my father's castle. That was the third time they'd gotten in, which was totally beyond reason. How could they have done it a third time, when Traixe and his men were
still supposedly alert and on edge from the first and second times?
I was so distracted by the rampaging of my thoughts, that we reached the back entrance of Oeran's house without my being more than faintly aware of what my sandals had needed to walk through to get there. It was just about full dark by then,, but the neighborhood the house stood in seemed a lot less rundown and overused than the one belonging to the tavern. A uniformed servant let us in, his face calm with that unimpressed expression usual to experienced night house personnel, a distinct change from the reactions of the people we'd passed on the way. I don't pass numberless dark but filled doorways and alleys without being aware of it even when I'm distracted, but apparently the sight of lots of black leather had kept everyone discreetly at a distance.
"Tell the kitchen I have five guests for dinner tonight instead of four," Oeran said to the servant/door guard as he led the way in. "WeMi be in my meeting room till then, rather than in the salon."
The servant said something in acknowledgment as we all moved past him, but I had already stopped listening. There was something involved with what 1 had been thinking about, something to do with the enemy and the castle, and I could have sworn it felt like an answer. An answer to what I still couldn't be sure of, but it had to be an answer to something.
"Isn't that right, Softy?" Ham said to me, and 1 blinked back to an awareness of my surroundings to find that we were in a large room that was very expensively furnished. Oeran was closing a white door that stood in the middle of a wall covered with golden brown silks and bright golden lamps, and the floor we stood on looked to be white marble. Quite a lot of chairs and couches stood around, some of them golden brown leather, some golden brocade, and although the lamps were lit, the firewood laid in the hearth wasn't.
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"Isn't what right?" I asked, having heard nothing of what had been said before my name was mentioned.
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