Children of Chaos

Where did that come from?

¦

The two great joys of his life had come to him late one afternoon a few years after his initiation, when he received a caller—a young Florengian woman with black hair in ringlets and fierce, dark eyes. He was upstairs in his counting room and had given orders that he was not to be disturbed, yet somehow she won her way past the doormen, walking in and taking a seat without being invited. She had a girl child with her, a toddler who stood by her mother, holding on and staring at Horth in silence, with unfathomable eyes.

Horth stared back, for he trusted the instincts the god had given him and they said there was profit to be made from this woman.

'What can I do for you, mistress?'

'Much. And I can do much for you.'

He waited. The dark eyes grew even fiercer.

'This child is a hostage from an important city in Florengia.'

'If you expect me to help you extract ransom from the children of Hrag, then you are sadly deranged.'

She shook her head contemptuously. 'I was hired as wet nurse to bring her here.' She had remarkably little accent if the story was true, for the war was only a year old, so she could not have arrived in Vigaelia more than a season or so ago. 'Later they tried to take her away from me.'

'It is customary,' Horth said, 'to guard hostages closely. Granted that one so young would not think of escape, her guardian might.'

'Her guardian did.' She smiled grimly.

'When and where? I have no wish to find a pack of Werists clawing their way in through my window.' He was puzzled by his increasing certainty that she would bring him profit; it was a feeling he often experienced when looking at a cargo of copper ore or swan feathers, and it was never wrong. But he could not see the means yet.

'Jat-Nogul.'

'Ah!' The fish began to bite. 'Rebels? The palace was burned in the sack, I understand. Satrap Karvak died.'

'Yes, he did.' The woman's smile sent a tremor of dread prickling all the way up his backbone. Surely not!

That possibility changed matters considerably.

But why not? Two gods might be better than one.

He took a moment to think before saying, 'I do not view the slaying of any child of Hrag to be a crime. If anything, the reverse. Public statues may be in order. Do you know any of the details?'

'Yes.'

'Are you—'

'Do not ask.'

They stared at each other in thoughtful silence. She was no longer smiling. He who fences with the Old One needs a long sword, as they said in the bazaar. On the other hand—and Horth could play more hands simultaneously than almost anyone—his god was still whispering 'profit' in his ear. Two gods would be better than one.

'You want sanctuary here, or transportation home to Florengia?'

'Marry me. Adopt the child. You are rich and going to be richer. You can afford a wife. I make a good wife.' She smiled mockingly. 'Wet nurses are seldom virgins.'

'I suppose not.' Horth, to his astonishment, felt himself returning that smile. She had an undeniable attraction, in an earthy sort of way. He had been meaning to look around for a wife but had never found time. 'And what else do I get out of this, apart from your very appealing company?'

'We look after our own.'

'Wives are expected to. Be more specific.'

'Prosperity to you and ruin to your enemies.'

'I do not approve of murder, if that is what you mean.' She had endangered herself by saying as much as she had, and he was now in peril, too. If he refused her and she were genuine, she might put the evil eye on him. And if he did not report her, he might find himself an accessory to charges of rebellion. Or worse. Since holy Mayn's Witnesses would not testify in chthonic trials, holy Demern's Speakers could not pass judgment, and justice belonged to the mob.

'I am not in the habit of killing people,' she said huffily.

'Can you offer me any evidence that you are what you are hinting you are?' He could not bring himself to say the word.

'I found you, did I not? Your lackeys let me pass, didn't they?'

He nodded. Those were convincing arguments.

The child turned and held up her arms. The woman lifted her onto her lap. 'I have made you a fair offer. Do you accept or not?'

He took one more moment to think. He considered throwing her out—assuming he was able—but the prospect felt very wrong. 'Marry you?'