Out of the Darkness

“Powers above, no!” Captain Sasso said. “We go to them. They don’t come to us-they won the fornicating war. But I don’t dare not go to them, powers below eat ‘em all. Like I said, if they find out I’ve hired anybody who isn’t checked …” He let out a hiss to show what was likely to happen to him.

“Ah,” Bembo said. “All right.” If we have to go somewhere else for this, that explains why Saffa didn’t know about it and warn me.

The Kuusaman garrison-to which a few Jelgavan soldiers and officials were also attached-was headquartered not far from Tricarico’s central plaza. The Jelgavans acted as if Bembo and Sasso were beneath their notice. The Kuusamans simply dealt with them. Jelgava had lost its share of the war; Kuusamo had won its. Bembo wondered what that said about the two kingdoms. Actually, he didn’t wonder. He had a pretty good idea what it said-nothing good about King Donalitu’s realm.

To his relief, the Kuusaman mage who questioned him turned out to speak fluent Algarvian. “So,” the fellow said. “You used to be a constable, and you want to be a constable again? And in between times you were. where? Answer truthfully.” He made a couple of passes at Bembo. “I will know if you lie-and if you do, you will not be a constable again.”

Bembo wondered whether to believe him. An Algarvian would not have phrased the warning so baldly. But Bembo had seen that Kuusamans didn’t indulge in flights of fancy, as his own countrymen delighted in doing. Besides which, he saw no point in lying here. “I was in Gromheort, and later in Eoforwic. I fought against the Forthwegian uprising there, and I was wounded when the Unkerlanters flung eggs into the place at the start of their big attack.”

“I see,” the slant-eyed mage said neutrally. “This is all very interesting, but not very important.”

“It is to me,” Bembo said. “It was my leg.”

“Not very important to what we are talking about here,” the Kuusaman said. “What we are talking about here is your dealings with the Kaunians in these two cities and thereabouts. You had dealings with Kaunians in these two cities and thereabouts, did you not?”

“Aye,” Bembo answered. He’d been a constable in the west. How could he have helped dealing with blonds?

“All right, then.” The Kuusaman grudged him a nod. “Now we come down to it. Did you ever kill any Kaunians while you were on duty in these two cities and thereabouts?”

“Aye,” Bembo said again.

“Then what are you doing here wasting my time and yours?” the Kuusaman demanded, showing annoyance for the first time. “I shall have to speak to your captain. He knows the regulations, and knows them well.”

“Will you listen to me?” Bembo said. “Let me tell you how it was, and powers below and your miserable spell both eat me if I lie.” He told the mage the tale of how he and Oraste had met the drunken ruin of a Kaunian mage sleeping in an overgrown park in Gromheort, and how the Kaunian hadn’t survived the encounter. “He was out after curfew, and he would have done something to us- he tried to do something to us, which is why we blazed the old bugger. And what does your precious magecraft have to say about that?”

“At first glance, it seems the truth. But I shall probe deeper.” The Kuusaman made more passes. He muttered in his own language. By the time he got done, he looked dissatisfied. “This is the truth-the truth as you remember it, at least.”

If he asked a question like, Is that the only time you killed a Kaunian? — if he asked a question like that, Bembo would never be a constable again. To keep him from asking it, Bembo went on, “I don’t suppose you want to hear about the time I pulled two Kaunians right out of the old noble’s castle in Gromheort and let ‘em get away.”

“Say on,” the Kuusaman mage told him. “Remember, though: if you lie, you will be permanently disqualified.”

“Who said anything about lying?” Bembo said with what he hoped was a suitable show of indignation. He told the mage about spiriting Doldasai’s parents out of the castle the Algarvians used as their headquarters in Gromheort and uniting them with their daughter, finishing, “Go ahead and use your fancy spell. I’m not lying.” He struck a pose, as well as he could while sitting down.

The Kuusaman mage made his passes. He muttered his charm. His eyebrows rose slightly. He made more passes. He muttered another charm, this one, Bembo thought, in classical Kaunian. Those black eyebrows rose again. “How interesting,” he said at last. “This does seem to be the truth. Will you now tell me you did it from the goodness of your heart?”

“No,” Bembo said. “I did it on account of I thought I’d get a terrific piece if I managed it, and I did, too.” He’d never mentioned Doldasai to Saffa, not even when he was spilling his guts to her, and he never intended to, either.

To his surprise, the Kuusaman turned red under his golden skin. Prissy whoreson, Bembo thought. “You are venal,” the mage said. “I suspect you took bribes in the form of money, too.” He might have accused Bembo of picking his nose and then sticking his finger in his mouth.

But Bembo only nodded. “Of course I did.” Fearing the spell wasn’t what made him tell the truth there. To him-to most Algarvians-bribes were nothing more than grease to help make wheels turn smoothly and quietly.

The mage looked almost as if he were about to be sick. “Disgustingly venal,” he muttered. “But that is not what I am searching for. Very well. I pronounce you fit to resume service as a constable.” He filled out forms as fast as he could. Plainly, he wanted Bembo out of his sight as fast as he could arrange it. He was too embarrassed, or perhaps too revolted, to probe much deeper.

Bembo hadn’t thought things would work out just like that, but he had thought they would work out. He usually did. And, more often than not, he turned out to be right.

Little by little, Vanai got used to living in Gromheort. Little by little, she got used to not living in fear. She needed a while to believe in her belly that no one would come through the streets shouting, “Kaunians, come forth!” The Algarvians were gone. They wouldn’t be back. A lot of them were dead. And the Forthwegians who’d bawled for Kaunian blood along with the redheads during the occupation were for the time being pretending they’d never done any such thing.

Living in the same house with Ealstan’s mother and father helped Vanai get over the terror she’d known. It proved to her, day after quiet day, that Forthwegians could like her and treat her as a person regardless of her blood. Ealstan did, of course, but that was different. That was special. Elfryth and Hestan hadn’t fallen in love with her, though they certainly had with her daughter.

Conberge often visited the house. The first time Vanai met Ealstan’s older sister, she stared intently at her, then asked, “Do I really look like that when I wear my Forthwegian mask?”

“I should say you do,” Conberge answered, eyeing her with just as much curiosity. “We could be twins, I think.”

“Oh, good!” Vanai exclaimed. “I’m so lucky, then!” That raised a blush from Conberge despite her swarthy Forthwegian complexion. Vanai meant it, too. She thought Conberge an outstandingly good-looking woman in the dark, buxom, strong-featured way of her people.

“I’m prettier with her face than I am with my own,” she told Ealstan that night.

“No, you’re not,” he answered, and kissed her. “You’re beautiful both ways.” He spoke with great conviction. He didn’t quite make Vanai believe him, but he did prove he loved her. She already knew that, of course, but more proofs were always welcome. She did her best to show Ealstan it went both ways, too.

As summer advanced, she and Conberge stopped looking just alike when she wore her sorcerous disguise, for her sister-in-law’s belly began to bulge, as her own had not so very long before. Conberge also grew even bustier than she had been, which Vanai thought almost too much of a good thing. She doubted whether Grimbald, Conberge’s husband, agreed.

The two of them walked to the market square together one blistering afternoon. Vanai had Saxburh along. Conberge watched her niece. “I ought to carry around a little notebook,” she said, “so I’ll know, ‘All right, she does this when she’s that old, and then when she gets a little older she’ll do that instead.’ “

Vanai rolled her eyes. “What she’s doing now is being a nuisance.” She’d brought along a carriage, but Saxburh pitched a fit every time she tried to put her into it. She’d just learned to walk, and walking was what she wanted to do. That meant her mother and her aunt had to match her pace, which annoyed Vanai but didn’t bother Saxburh at all.