afraid.’ She abruptly leaned close until her nose was almost touching Shurq’s lips.
Tehol flinched, but luckily neither woman noticed.
‘You drowned.’
‘Really.’
‘In Quillas Canal. Just downstream of Windlow’s Meatgrinders on the last day of a summer month. Which one? Wanderer’s Month? Watcher’s?’
‘Betrayer’s.’
‘Oh! Windlow must have had unusually good business that month, then. Tell me, do people scream when they see you?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Me too.’
‘Do you,’ Shurq asked, ‘get compliments on your hair?’
‘Never.’
‘Well, that was pleasing small-talk,’ Tehol said hastily. ‘We haven’t got all night, alas-’
‘Why, yes we have, you silly man,’ Selush said.
‘Oh, right. Sorry. In any case. Shurq was a victim of the Drownings, and, it turned out, an abiding curse.’
‘Isn’t it always the way?’ Selush sighed, turning to walk to the long table along the back wall of the room.
‘Tehol mentioned roses,’ Shurq said, following.
‘Roses? Dear me, no. Cinnamon and patchouli, I would think. But first, we need to do something about all that mould, and the moss in your nostrils. And then there’s the ootooloo-’
‘The
‘Lives in hot springs in the Bluerose Mountains.’ She swung about and regarded Shurq with raised brows. ‘A secret among women. I’m surprised you’ve never heard of them.’
‘It would seem my education is lacking.’
‘Well, an ootooloo is a small soft-bodied creature that feeds through a crevice, a sort of vertical slit for a mouth. Its skin is covered in cilia with the unusual quality of transmitting sensation. These cilia can take root in membranous flesh-’
‘Hold on a moment,’ Tehol said, aghast, ‘you’re not suggesting-’
‘Most men can’t tell the difference, but it enhances pleasure many times… or so I am led to believe. I have never invited one inside, since the emplacement of an ootooloo is permanent, and it needs, uhm, constant feeding.’
‘How often?’ Shurq demanded, and Tehol heard suitable alarm in her tone.
‘Daily.’
‘But Shurq’s nerves are dead – how can she feel what this ottoolie thing feels?’
‘Not dead, Tehol Beddict, simply unawakened. Besides, before too long, the ootooloo’s cilia will have permeated her entire body, and the healthier the organism the brighter and more vigorous her glowing flesh!’
‘I see. And what of my brain? Will these roots grow in it as well?’
‘Well, we can’t have that, can we, lest you live out the remainder of existence drooling in a hot bath. No, we shall infuse your brain with a poison – well, not a true poison, but the exudation of a small creature that shares those hot springs with the ootooloo. Said exudation is unpalatable to the ootooloo. Isn’t nature wonderful?’
Grainy-eyed, Bugg staggered inside his master’s home. It was less than an hour before dawn. He felt drained, more by the blessing he had given than by preparing the old woman’s corpse for burial. Two strides into the single room and he halted.
Seated on the floor and leaning against the wall opposite was Shand. ‘Where is the bastard, Bugg?’
‘Working, although I imagine you are sceptical. I’ve not slept this night and so am unequal to conversation, Shand-’
‘And I care? What kind of work? What’s he doing that has to be done when the rest of the world’s asleep?’
‘Shand, I-’
‘Answer me!’
Bugg walked over to the pot sitting on a grille above the now cool hearth. He dipped a cup into the tepid, stewed tea. ‘Twelve lines of investment, like unseen streams beneath foundations, eating away but yet to reveal a tremor. There are essential trusses to every economy, Shand, upon which all else rests.’
‘You can’t do business in the middle of the night.’
‘Not that kind of business, no. But there are dangers to all this, Shand. Threats. And they need to be met. Anyway, what are you doing out at night without your bodyguard?’
‘Ublala? That oaf? In Rissarh’s bed. Or Hejun’s. Not mine, not tonight, anyway. We take it in turns.’
Bugg stared at her through the gloom. He drank the last of the tea and set the cup down.
‘Is all that true?’ Shand asked after a moment. ‘Those investments?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why isn’t he telling us these things?’
‘Because your investments have to remain separate, disconnected. There can be no comparable pattern. Thus, follow his instructions with precision. It will all come clear eventually.’
‘I hate geniuses.’
‘Understandable. All he does seems to confound, it’s true. One gets used to it.’
‘And how is Bugg’s Construction doing?’
‘Well enough.’
‘What’s the purpose of it, anyway? Just to make money?’
‘No. The intention is to acquire the contract for the Eternal Domicile.’
Shand stared. ‘Why?’
Bugg smiled.
Disinfecting, bleaching, scraping, combing. Fragrant oils rubbed into clothing and skin. Preserving oils rubbed in everywhere else. Scouring flushes of eyes, nose, ears and mouth. Then it was time for the pump.
At which point Tehol staggered outside for some air.
The sky was paling to the east, the city’s less sane denizens already risen and venturing out onto the streets. Clattering carts on the cobbles. Somewhere a rooster crowed, only to have its exuberant cry cut off into strangled silence. A dog barked happily.
Footsteps, halting to Tehol’s right. ‘You still here?’
‘Ah, Selush’s assistant. And how are you this grisly morning, Padderunt?’
The old man’s expression was eternally sour, but at Tehol’s courteous enquiry it seemed to implode into a wrinkled mess. ‘How am I? Sleepless! That’s how I am, y’damned snake! They still in there? It’s a lost cause, I say. A lost cause. Just like you, Tehol Beddict. I knew your mother – what would she say seeing you now?’
‘You knew her corpse, you old fool. Before that we’d never met you.’
‘Think she didn’t tell me all about herself anyway? Think I can’t see what’s there to be seen? The soul inside shapes the flesh. Oh, she talked to me all right.’
Tehol’s brows rose. ‘The soul inside shapes the flesh?’ He stared down at the wrinkled prune face glaring up at him. ‘Oh my.’
‘Oh, that’s a cutting remark, is it? True enough, here’s what happens when a decent man gets no sleep!’
A small clay pot exploded on the cobbles between them, followed by a furious shout from a window in the building opposite.
‘There!’ Padderunt cried, hand to his head as he staggered in circles. ‘Make of our neighbours vicious enemies! You don’t live here, do you?’
‘Calm down,’ Tehol said. ‘I simply asked how you were this morning, in case you’ve forgotten. Your reply was supposed to be equally inane and nondescript. If I’d wanted a list of your ailments – well, I wouldn’t. Who would? Innocuous civility is what was expected, Padderunt. Not foul invective.’
‘Oh really? Well, how am I supposed to know that? Come on, there’s a place nearby makes great grain cakes. And rustleaf tea, which can wake the dead.’
