Fate

by Mary Corran

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t see.’

  ‘Shall I walk to the inn with you?’

  She considered the offer at some length, but finally shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. Just wish me luck, or whatever sailors do.’

  The quay was now almost empty, and Mallory knew it was time to separate; they were conspicuous enough as it was, but it was just possible anyone watching them could think her his clerk. Unless they knew otherwise. Unwillingly, he let her go, observing the confident pace at which she made for the narrow streets of the old quarter, wishing she had let him accompany her.

  Mindful of her request, he looked towards the northern pier and found the oddsman, a thin, elderly man, dressed in piebald colours, who always did a brisk business when merchant ships sailed. Although some thought their function pure superstition, it was a rare sailor who could not find a copper coin to gamble himself a better fortune on his journey. Mallory felt in his pocket and discovered five gold coins, an unusually large sum, and handed them over.

  ‘What d’you want for this?’ the oddsman asked, astonished at the scale of this unexpected largess.

  ‘Good fortune, for a friend.’

  The man threw the pair of dice he kept in a leather box at his side, surveying the outcome through narrowed slits of eyes; one landed with the four uppermost, the second showing a three.

  ‘Good and bad,’ he said at last. ‘Maybe the good’ll outweigh the other; should do, the price you’ve paid. Want me to try again?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Mallory nodded, walking away towards the fish market with no particular aim in mind. Halfway across the quay he turned back, deciding to pay a visit to the warehouses, feeling a need to occupy his over-active imagination.

  As he did so, he thought he noticed a man at the southern end of the quay begin to move in the same direction; and when he reached his destination he was disconcerted, but no longer surprised, to find the same man still in sight.

  *

  The inn was less crowded than usual and Carob nowhere in sight, but Cass smiled a welcome as Asher entered.

  ‘She’s over there,’ Cass volunteered, pointing to a table in the far corner.

  Mylura was sitting in front of an empty plate. Her face lit up when she saw Asher, who hooked a nearby stool for herself and sat down.

  ‘I thought you said they fed you well?’

  Mylura grinned. ‘Just not often enough.’ She was still wearing the black dress, although a cloak covered the wolf’s head badge at her shoulder.

  Asher leaned forward. ‘What’s so urgent? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.’

  ‘Gold, I hope.’ Mylla, too, opted for discretion, lowering her clear voice. ‘Last night, when I got back to the house, I struck lucky. I’ve the name and address of the nurse who was maid to Katriane, Avorian’s dead wife, and Menna’s, too, when she was a child.’

  Asher felt a thrill of disquiet. ‘How?’

  ‘I was in the housekeeper’s room, making up the fire, when a message came.’ Her tones sank even lower. ‘It was from a woman here in the old quarter, asking for a relief so she could leave her post to visit her sick daughter. Mistress Nan — that’s the housekeeper — was annoyed because it was so late, but she left the room to look for another of the maids, forgetting I was still there. I had a look at the note and saw the address was near here, in the Street of Good Hope, and when I’d finished with the fire I went down to the servants’ hall and asked one of the other girls who lived here. She told me there’s a woman takes care of the old nurse, called Alys, who was Avorian’s wife’s maid. Ash, it was the purest good luck.’ She looked up earnestly. ‘I do believe that. The coincidence is too great. It must be meant.’

  ‘How did you get away tonight?’ she asked sharply. ‘Did you ask leave?’

  ‘I pretended my mother was sick and needed me. Mistress Nan was kind and let me go.’

  ‘Mylla ... ’ Asher frowned. It was all too pat, too easy. ‘Do you think anyone could have followed you here?’

  She looked astonished. ‘I don’t think so. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Just a bad feeling. What do you want to do — try to visit this woman tonight?’

  Mylla produced a second wolf’s head badge from the pocket of her cloak and slid it across the table. ‘If you wear this, we’ll say we’ve come from the house to help. You can be a servant up from the country — my cousin, perhaps, in case this woman knows the members of the household. Ash, this may be our only chance. We have to take it!’

  ‘I know.’ As she said it, Asher was sure it was true, but for some reason that knowledge intensified her disquiet; her mind ran through the ramifications of Mylla’s discovery. Could this be a trap? It was possible, but, trap or not, they had to try. ‘All right. Where is this place?’

  ‘Not far from here. It’s down the alley at the back, then two streets on.’ Mylura looked up eagerly. ‘Now?’

  ‘Better before dark, I suppose.’

  ‘Oh, there’s another thing.’ Asher looked askance. ‘Menna’s gone away.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Asher asked sharply. ‘Gone where?’

  Mylura shrugged. ‘Just gone. No one said where, or even that she was leaving. But by the time I went to do her room this morning she wasn’t there, and one of the other maids told me she’d gone away for a while.’

  ‘Mylla, don’t you think this is wrong? Why should she go now?’

  ‘Coincidence. How could they know we suspected Avorian?’ Mylura sounded puzzled.

  ‘Lassar.’

  ‘The diviner? But how could he tell — what could he possibly know?’

  ‘It just feels wrong, especially after last night.’ Briefly, Asher told Mylla about the thefts from the hostel. ‘But even so, we’ll go and talk to this old woman.’ Reluctantly, she got to her feet, nodded at Cass and made for the door, Mylura following.

  Outside, she glanced to left and right, but there was no one about who looked out of place.

  ‘Down here.’ Mylura led the way down the side of the inn to a narrow alley, too dark for Asher’s peace of mind. Houses loomed close to either side, overhanging the street, all in poor repair, and the smell coming from the gutters was rank.

  At the entrance, Asher hesitated. ‘It’s not exactly inviting!’

  ‘Nonsense. Don’t be so fussy!’

  It was still daylight, and Asher tried to still her apprehension as they walked down the shady alley, glad of the noisy presence of children playing some complicated game who did not bother to look up as the women passed. She could detect no pursuing footsteps, but when they emerged into a wider street at the end she let out a long breath.

  ‘Why so nervous tonight?’ Mylla gave her a curious look. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘Only what I told you — about meeting Stern, and losing my identity papers.’

  Mylura nodded slowly. ‘Everything’s coming together, don’t you think so? It’s as if we’re near the end.’

  It was so much like her own thoughts that Asher nodded. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘I felt it in Avorian’s house, too.’ Mylura made a face as she struggled to find the right words. ‘A waiting feeling. There’s something going on that no one tells you, but it underlies everything else.’

  Asher glanced back. ‘Let’s get on. I don’t like it here.’

  At the end of the second, wider street, Mylura turned the left corner, scanning the tall houses to either side before coming to a halt in front of a stone doorway bearing a butterfly insignia. ‘This is the place, I think. Put on your badge, Ash.’

  The street was in marked contrast to most in the quarter; deep gutters ran clear, and the buildings were in good repair. No cracks marred the frontages of the terraces, and the shutters on all four storeys of the house they were looking at had been painted a cheerful shade of yellow, colour of good fortune. The only quality to disturb Asher was the silence. Elsewhere in the old quarter, streets were filled with raised voices and crying babies a
nd slamming doors; here, there was something dead about the place, as if the residents went about their daily business in whispers behind the shuttered windows, walking on silent feet from room to room.

  The air felt still and breathless, sounds from beyond the street muted and far away.

  ‘I wonder who else lives here?’ Asher said aloud.

  Mylura shrugged. ‘No idea. It looks prosperous, doesn’t it? Mighty generous of Avorian; it must cost him a few gold coins a year.’

  ‘He probably owns the building — or the street.’

  Mylla shrugged. ‘Are we going in?’

  She led the way through the porch, and they found themselves in a cool stone passage with stairs leading up to the left, and an open door to their right.

  ‘Who’re you wanting?’ called a sharp voice from behind the door.

  Mylura lifted her cloak to reveal her badge. ‘Mistress Alys.’

  An elderly woman shuffled out to the passage and looked closely at them both, then nodded. ‘Upstairs, second floor.’

  ‘Even a portress!’ Mylura whispered to Asher as they climbed the stairs. ‘No expense spared.’

  ‘Or a wardress.’ It was too late to wish the woman had not seen their faces.

  There was only one door leading from the second-floor landing, and Mylura, signalling Asher to display her badge, knocked on it loudly. A response came in the form of heavy footsteps, then there was the sound of bolts being drawn back. The door opened, perhaps a handspan.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Their interrogator was a dark woman with a closed and angry face; she displayed a large hand which rested on the edge of the door as she peered suspiciously at her visitors, although her expression lightened on seeing the wolf badges.

  ‘Mistress Nan sent us,’ Mylla said hastily, before she could shut the door again. ‘She thought you might need to be spelled tonight, if your daughter’s still sick.’

  The door opened a trifle wider. ‘What’s your name? I haven’t seen you before, have I?’

  ‘I’m Clara, a new maid up at the house, and this is my cousin Karis. No, we’ve not met, but I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Mylura was at her most convincing, her plain face void of any hint of duplicity. ‘She’s come to keep me company, up from the country for a spell.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for you!’ The suspicion was still there, but reduced in intensity. ‘I’d not have it said I didn’t earn my wages!’

  ‘No, no. This was Mistress Nan’s own idea. She’s always so kind,’ Mylla said reassuringly. ‘And it’s no trouble to sit with Mistress Alys.’

  ‘I’ve given the old lady her supper.’ The woman said it grudgingly. ‘There’s nothing much needs to be done, just to sit with her, because she doesn’t like to be left alone. And there’s a drop of wine the master sent. She likes a cup after supper.’ She seemed torn between duty and desire. ‘My daughter’s close to her first confinement, and fretting herself near to death!’

  ‘So Mistress Nan said,’ Mylura agreed, nodding. ‘Just show us where she is, and we’ll be happy to sit with the old lady.’

  The issue hung in the balance, and Asher was not certain which outcome was to be preferred; but Mylla’s innocent expression must have been the decider, for at last the door opened fully, and they were ushered inside.

  ‘Come through to the bedroom. You can wait there. I won’t be gone more than an hour.’ The woman led them through a large, surprisingly well-furnished apartment with long, light rooms that smelled of polish and rosewater; Asher wondered why Avorian should go to such expense for a mere servant, no matter how highly valued.

  ‘Here, Mistress Alys,’ the woman said, raising her voice as she addressed the tiny prone figure lying on the bed, covered by thick blankets. A pair of dark eyes swivelled towards Asher, paused, then moved on to inspect Mylura. ‘I’ve two visitors for you. They’ll sit with you while I visit my daughter.’ She gestured to a pitcher standing on a table. ‘There’s wine there. Help yourselves. I’ll not be gone long.’

  The room faced west, catching the last of the sunlight; a fire burned in the hearth, but the shutters stood open, for it was a warm evening. The room had a musty smell, but sparkled with cleanliness. Asher glanced at the old woman’s face, vastly relieved to find it held an expression of sharp interest rather than the vacancy she feared; old she might be, but Alys still had all her wits.

  ‘Would you like wine?’ Mylla asked her, going closer to the bed. The old lady blinked in apparent agreement, and, with a last backward look, her guardian departed. Soon, the shutting of the door told Asher the three of them were now alone.

  ‘Here.’ Asher put an arm under the old woman’s shoulders. ‘Let me help you sit up.’ Efficiently, she placed a pillow behind her back, raising her so that she could drink.

  ‘And who might you be, young missy?’ Dark eyes snapped in the tiny face, and Asher wondered just how old Alys was; her figure was wasted, barely disturbing the blankets. ‘Though you seem to know what you’re doing!’

  ‘I’ve a little experience in nursing. I’m Asher, and this is Mylura.’ She had forgotten the names Mylla had invented, and in any case there seemed little point in deception. Avorian would know who had come once the truth was out. ‘We’ve come to talk to you.’

  ‘What about?’ The same suspicion exhibited by her own nurse showed in Alys’ face. ‘Is there sickness up at the house? Is the master ill?’ She sounded almost hopeful.

  ‘None.’ Mylura put the cup of wine to the old woman’s lips, and she took a sip. ‘We’ve come to give your nurse a chance to see her daughter, and to visit you. Were you long in the Chief Councillor’s service, Mistress Alys?’

  ‘His?’ There was an encouraging note of antagonism in her voice. ‘What’s it to you? But I was never in his pay. I came with my mistress, my nursling, Katriane, on her wedding day. All her life, sweet thing that she was, and her promise that got me this.’ She made a feeble gesture round the room with a skeletal hand. ‘She made him swear to it as she lay dying, I heard her. When he said no, she said she’d curse him if he’d not abide by her wishes, so he did swear.’ She sounded as if the promise still gave her immense satisfaction. ‘The master knew the powerful ill luck of the curse of the dying, and he had to keep his word or lose his luck.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t he do as she asked?’ Asher inquired. ‘Why did she need to threaten him if you’d been with her all her life? Surely, it was his duty to provide for you?’

  ‘Because — ’ She broke off, glaring at Asher with sharp intelligence. ‘You’re no servant, nor the other. I’d give you no room in any house I ran.’

  Asher inclined her head. ‘No,’ she admitted equably. ‘I’m no servant. But I still want to talk to you.’

  ‘No.’ Alys tightened her lips. ‘I gave my word, too.’

  ‘What about?’

  The dark eyes snapped at her. ‘I’ll not be caught like that, young missy, and don’t you think it!’

  ‘We need you, Mistress Alys,’ Asher said quietly. ‘Badly. We think only you can help us.’

  ‘In what way?’ But it was obvious that, despite her age, the old woman understood all too well what Asher wanted.

  ‘We want to know about Menna.’

  ‘The master’s daughter? What about her?’ Her eyes would not meet Asher’s, slithering sideways in a sly fashion. ‘She’s well, isn’t she? You said there was no sickness.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Mylura intervened, seeing Asher’s hesitancy. ‘She’s well. Was she your charge, too, when she was a babe?’

  ‘What’s it to you?’

  They were getting nowhere; from the craftiness of the woman’s expression, Asher guessed they could ask questions all night without result. There must be a way to reach the old nurse, but how? What was the key to loosen her tongue?

  Katriane. The answer sprang to her mind like a revelation.

  The woman’s love for her nursling was still intense. On impulse, Asher said suddenly: ‘They say the Chief Councillor is
considering marrying again soon.’

  Mylla sent her a puzzled look, but a breathless silence settled over the room. Alys gripped the stem of her wine cup in bony fingers, staring at Asher.

  ‘Married, you say?’ she said at last.

  Asher nodded. ‘Soon.’ Again, inspiration struck. ‘He wants more children, now Menna is grown and he has no heir for the trade.’

  ‘Him? She spat the word out. ‘He’ll father none, nor ever did!’ Her look dared Asher to refute the statement. ‘He blamed my Katriane, and said it was her doing he’d no sons, but it was him — all the time it was him!’ The words spilled from her in defence of her love. ‘And she with seven brothers and sisters, and him with only a sister, and a sickly one at that! No, I knew from the time he was taken ill with the swelling fever there’d be no children in that house.’ She shook her head emphatically. ‘When that takes a man, it takes his seed, and he may whistle for his sons!’

  Mylura was stunned into rare silence, but Asher urged: ‘So Menna is not his daughter?’

  The eyes turned to her. ‘His? How could she be, tell me that, when he’d been married to my girl for six years without even a false alarm? No, he bought the girl to salve his pride! To prove it was my mistress and not he who was barren — that’s what I believe, and that’s why he would have turned me out to starve if my Katriane’d not made him give his promise! That’s what I swore I’d not tell a living soul, so long as he kept her in his memory.’ Malice lit her expression. ‘But if he’s broken his word, there’s nothing to make me keep mine, not now. Not if he’s untrue to her.’

  ‘Tell me about Menna,’ Asher invited softly; her inspired suggestion had certainly opened the gates with a vengeance. ‘When did she come to live with you?’

  ‘When she was — what? — five or six. It’s hard to tell at that age. He told my mistress a lie, that he’d had another woman and this was their child and he wanted to adopt the girl. She, like the gentle creature she was, agreed, for she believed him when he said it was down to her they’d no children, and she wanted to please him so he’d not put her aside; she took in the girl and was good to her.’ Alys was still too angry at the insult to her mistress for caution. ‘A nice child, but none of his getting, I’d swear to it.’