“She couldn’t have had a better master come along,” Draffyd said. “She reminds all the older masters of another young second some years back.”
“I thought you might say something along those lines,” I said ruefully. “I managed to temper her strikes enough that she didn’t kill them.”
“Are you sure that was wise?”
“I haven’t heard that either Silmyn and Torgast were the kind of bullies like Johanyr or Diazt.”
“They’ve been a bit of a problem, but, you’re right, nothing like Johanyr. He had as much raw ability as you did.”
“He didn’t want to work.”
“It’s probably better that way.”
“Is he still at Mont D’Glace?”
“I suppose so. We would have heard, otherwise.” Draffyd pointed to the surgical smock on the peg beside the door and the cadaver on the surgery table. “We need to get to work.”
What he meant was that I needed to get to work.
Two glasses later, I washed up and left the infirmary. I might not have looked green, but my internal organs were somewhat unsteady. Still, the mist and cold helped enough that I was merely chilled through when I closed our door behind me.
Seliora appeared immediately. “You must be cold. I have some warm mulled wine for you.”
I couldn’t help putting my arms around her, and just holding her.
“How was Master Draffyd?” she finally asked.
“He was fine. I’m glad he’s the imager surgeon and not me.”
“You could do some of that, couldn’t you? Now?”
“A little. If someone would die otherwise.” I shuddered.
“Go sit in front of the stove. You’re freezing.”
I took off my cloak and hung it up, then followed her directions, taking one side of the settee directly before the stove in the family parlor.
Seliora reappeared with two mugs and offered me one, then settled beside me. “You’re worried. More worried than I’ve ever seen you.”
“Even more than when Iryela’s father was after you and my family?”
“More than that,” she said.
I held the mug to my lips, letting the cinnamon-clove steam wreathe my face for a moment, then took a small swallow of the wine before I spoke again. “There’s more to all of this than just elveweed and friction between freeholders and factors and the High Holders.”
“You think the Ferrans have more spies here causing trouble?”
“I don’t think there’s any doubt about it. But the stronger elveweed comes from Otelyrn. I mean that it originally grew only there, and that points to Stakanar or Tiempre.” I took another swallow of the wine. I was beginning to feel warmer. “It’s also caused another problem.” I had to explain to Seliora why I’d be changing our schedules for a while. She listened while I talked. When I finished, I waited.
“You’re as bad as any Pharsi when it comes to protecting your own,” Seliora said quietly.
I didn’t mention that Mama Diestra had made that point before we were married. But the plain fact was that it would be difficult for taudis-toughs to kill me. Difficult, but not impossible. But…if they went after my patrollers, and I wasn’t there…before long I’d be totally in effective as a Patrol Captain. “There’s another problem. They’re putting the word out that Kharles was shot because I meddled in their operations in his district.”
Seliora stiffened.
“I didn’t. The crazy tiler lost his daughter. Maybe she was his niece…” I explained the rest of the story.
“It’s all a set-up to get to you,” she said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the two dealers Horazt named are being exposed to punish them and that the others let Sostrys get to those two.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised at that, either, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“No. If you’re there, even if some patrollers do get hurt, your men will stand behind you. If you aren’t…”
She didn’t have to finish the sentence.
Eventually, we went to bed, first to hers, and then, as always, I went to my own-knowing that, uneasy as I was, my dreams might lead, as they occasionally had, to unthought dream-imaging.
22
On Mardi, I skipped the early-morning exercises and slept later-not all that much later, given Diestrya, but I needed as much sleep as I could get, and I was grateful that my disturbed dreams hadn’t led to sleep-imaging. Even so, I didn’t head in to the station until close to ninth glass, but the day was still damp and chill.
Lyonyt greeted me with an announcement. “Captain, we just got a report. First District thinks they just picked up the body of that elver you asked about. Red hair…same scar along the forearm.”
“Thank you.” I couldn’t say I was surprised that Kolasyn’s brother was dead. The only questions that had ever been in my mind were when he would die and whether anyone would find his body. Some elvers could put in a day’s work, go home and smoke a weed-pipe or two, got to bed, and get up and go to work. Then, there were the ones for whom smoking the weed was life itself. They died hard and young. Haerasyn had clearly been one of those. “I’ll have to go down to First District in a bit.” I paused. “We haven’t had any word from any of the goldsmiths, have we?”
“No, sir. I’d say it’s not too likely now.”
“You’re right about that.”
After checking the logs and the reports and finding nothing out of the ordinary, I walked into Alsoran’s study. I didn’t close the door.
As usual, the lieutenant was on his feet. “I heard about your relative.”
“It had to happen. It’s better that it’s over. I’ll go down there and take care of matters after we’re through here.” I gestured to the chairs, then took the one facing his desk. “What’s happened that’s not in the logs, if anything?”
“We’ll need to rework some of the rounds tonight. Last night, Vaeryn got his foot run over by a cart, and Socaryt’s out with a flux of some sort.”
“Is the foot something that will heal?”
“The surgeon thinks so, but it will be weeks, if not longer.”
“Can he handle the duty desk on the midnight to morning shift?”
“He should be able to. We can see.”
Once Alsoran and I reworked the rounds, I took a hack down to the headquarters building on Fedre, just a block or so up from East River Road, not because I wanted to be anywhere near Cydarth, but because the rear of the building also held First District station.
I didn’t know the patroller on the duty desk, but he clearly knew me. “The body’s in the cold room, Captain Rhennthyl.”
“Thank you.” I walked back to the far corner and opened the heavy door slowly. There was almost no odor, even though there were five bodies laid out. I could tell from body positions that four were elvers.
Once I stood beside the redheaded form, I recognized Haerasyn. His dead face held the contorted expression common to all the elvers who’d died from the stronger weed. I didn’t even shake my head.
I walked back to the front desk. “It’s him. I’ll sign the claim forms and have the crematorium pick up the body as soon as they can.”
“We’ll hold it.” The desk patroller handed the single sheet of paper to me.
I filled it out, signed it, and handed it back.
He looked at me again.
“I’ll be making the arrangements right after I leave here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
