Snake unfolded herself from the window seat and padded back to her room, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The tower was silent and cool. Her room was empty. Just as well that Gabriel had left, for though she was annoyed at him she did not want to dissipate her anger. It was not he who deserved it, and she had better uses for it. After washing she dressed, looking out over the valley. The eastern peaks still shadowed much of its floor. As she watched, the darkness crept back from the stable and its geometric white-fenced paddocks. Everything was still.
Suddenly, a horse strode from shade to sunlight. Tremendously lengthened, its shadow sprang from its hooves and marched like a giant through the sparkling grass. It was the big piebald stallion, with Melissa perched on his back.
The stallion broke into a canter and moved smoothly across the field. Snake wished she too were riding through the morning with the wind on her face; she could almost hear the hollow drumming of hooves on earth, smell the fragrance of new grass, see glistening dewdrops flung up by her passing.
The stallion galloped across the field, mane and tail flying. Melissa hunched close over his withers. One of the high stone boundary walls loomed before them.
Snake caught her breath, certain the stallion was out of Melissa’s control. His pace never slackened. Snake leaned forward as if she could reach out and stop them before the horse threw the child against the wall. She could see the tension in him, but Melissa sat still and calm. The horse steadied and sailed over the barrier, clean.
A few paces later his canter slowed; he trotted a few steps and then walked, sedately, grandly, toward the stable, as if he, like Melissa, were in no hurry to return.
If she had had any doubts about the truth of anything Melissa had told her, they were gone now. She had not doubted that Ras abused the child: Melissa’s distress and confusion were all too real. Snake had wondered if riding Gabriel’s horse had been an understandable fantasy, but it was equally real and it made Snake understand how difficult it might be to free her young friend. Melissa was valuable to Ras and he would not want to let her go. Snake was afraid to go straight to the mayor, with whom she had no rapport, and denounce Ras for the twisted thing he was. Who would believe her? In daylight she herself had trouble believing such a thing could ever happen, and Melissa was too frightened to accuse Ras directly. Snake did not blame her.
Snake went to the other tower and knocked on the mayor’s door. As the noise echoed in the stone hallways she realized how early it was. But she did not really care; she was in no mood for conventional courtesy.
Brian opened the door. “Yes, mistress?”
“I’ve come to speak to the mayor about my payment.”
He bowed her inside. “He’s awake. I’m sure he’ll see you.”
Snake lifted one eyebrow at the implication that he might choose not to see her. But the servant had spoken the way a man does who worships another person beyond consideration for any other customs. Brian did not deserve her anger either.
“He’s been wakeful all night,” Brian said, leading her toward the tower room. “The scab itches so badly — perhaps you could — ?”
“If it isn’t infected it’s a matter for the chemist, not for me,” Snake said coldly.
Brian glanced back at her. “But, mistress—”
“I’ll speak to him alone, Brian. Will you please send for the stablemaster and for Melissa?”
“Melissa?” It was his turn to raise his eyebrows. “Is that the red-haired child?”
“Yes.”
“Mistress, are you sure you wish her to come here?”
“Please do as I ask.”
He bowed slightly, his face again the mask of a perfect servant. Snake stepped past him into the mayor’s bedroom.
The mayor lay contorted on his bed, sheets and blankets in a tangle around him and on the floor. The bandages and dressing sagged away from his leg and the clean brown scab. His expression one of pleasure and relief, he scratched the healing wound slowly.
He saw Snake and tried to pull the bandages back up, smiling guiltily.
“It does itch,” he said. “I suppose that means it’s getting well?”
“Scratch all you want,” Snake said. “I’ll be two days gone by the time you reinfect it.”
He snatched his hand away and pushed himself back up on his pillows. Awkwardly trying to straighten the bedclothes, he looked around, irritable again. “Where’s Brian?”
“He’s doing a favor for me.”
“I see.” Snake detected more annoyance in his tone, but the mayor let the subject drop. “Did you want to see me about something?”
“My payment.”
“Of course — I should have brought it up myself. I had no idea you were leaving us so soon, my dear.”
Snake hated endearments from people toward whom she did not feel dear. Grum must have said the same words to her fifty times, a hundred times a day, and they had not grated the way this man’s did.
“I know of no town that refuses Mountainside currency,” he said. “They know we never adulterate the metal or short-weigh the coins. However, we can pay you in precious stones if you prefer.”
“I want neither,” Snake said. “I want Melissa.”
“Melissa? A citizen? Healer, it took me twenty years to overcome Mountainside’s reputation as a place of bonding! We free bondservants, we don’t take them.”
“Healers don’t keep bondservants. I should have said I want her freedom. She wants to leave with me, but your stablemaster Ras is — what do you call it? — her guardian.”
The mayor stared at her. “Healer, I can’t ask a man to break up his family.”
Snake forced herself not to react. She did not want to have to explain her disgust. When she did not reply, the mayor fidgeted, rubbed his leg, pulled his hand away from the bandage again.
“This is very complicated. Are you sure you won’t choose something else?”
“Are you refusing my request?”
He recognized her tone as the veiled threat it was; he touched the call-bell and Brian reappeared.
“Send a message to Ras. Ask him to come up as soon as he can. He’s to bring his child as well.”
“The healer has sent for them already, sir.”
“I see.” He gazed at Snake as Brian withdrew. “Suppose he refuses your demands?”
“Anyone is free to refuse payment to a healer,” Snake said. “We carry weapons only for defense and we never make threats. But we do not go where we are not welcome.”
“You mean you boycott any place that doesn’t please you.”
Snake shrugged.
“Ras is here, sir,” Brian said from the doorway.
“Ask him to come in.”
Snake tensed, forcing herself to control contempt and revulsion. The big man entered the room, ill at ease. His hair was damp and haphazardly slicked back. He bowed slightly to the mayor.
Behind Ras, next to Brian, Melissa hung back. The old servant drew her into the room, but she did not look up.
“It’s all right, child,” the mayor said. “You aren’t here for punishment.”
“That’s hardly the way to reassure anyone!” Snake snapped.
“Healer, please, sit down,” the mayor said gently. “Ras — ?” He nodded to two chairs.
Ras seated himself, glancing at Snake with dislike. Brian urged Melissa forward until she was standing between Snake and Ras, but she kept her gaze fixed on the floor.
“Ras is your guardian,” the mayor said. “Is that correct?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
Ras reached out, put one finger against Melissa’s shoulder, and shoved lightly but deliberately. “Show some respect when you speak to the mayor.”
“Sir.” Melissa’s voice was soft and shaky.
“Melissa,” Snake said, “he asked you up here to find out what it is you want to do.”
Ras swung around. “What she wants to do? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Healer,” the mayor said again, his cautioning tone a little more emphatic, “please. Ras, I’m in considerable difficulty. And only you, my friend, can help me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The healer saved my life, you know, and now it’s time to pay her. It seems she and your child have taken a fancy to one another.”
“So what is it you want me to do?”
“I’d not ask you to make this sacrifice if not for the good of the town. And according to the healer it’s what your child wishes.”
“
“Your child—”
“Melissa,” Snake said.
“Her name isn’t Melissa,” Ras said shortly. “It isn’t that now and it never has been.”
“Then you tell the mayor what you call her!”
“What I call her is more honest than the airs she puts on. She gave herself that name.”
“Then it’s all the more hers.”
“Please,” the mayor said. “We’re talking about the child’s guardianship, not her name.”
“Her guardianship? Is that what this is all about? You mean you want me to give her away?”
