After their conversation in the market, life for Livosha returned, in a certain sense, to normal. Though concerned to know she was being pursued, she nevertheless carried on with her work, and, as she had promised, practiced harder than ever to perfect her skills as a swordsman. One day—in fact, it was another Endweek several years after the events we have had the honor to describe in our previous examination of Livosha’s history—she happened to be taking her ease with a cup of white wine when her brother returned.
“Ah,” he said as removed his cloak. “Is that a Farinori? And, if it is, may I trouble you for a cup?”
“Oh, certainly,” she said. “And I pour it the more readily because I have purchased an entire case, and that thanks to the money you have been supplying to our little enterprise.”
“We have, then, an enterprise?” said Kefaan, removing his boots and accepting the cup.
“Well, such is what I would call it.”
“In that case,” he said, drinking, “I can report that our enterprise, as you call it, has to-day made certain progress.”
“Oh,” said Livosha. “Progress! Well, I do not object to progress. On the contrary, I welcome it.”
“Then I have little doubt you will welcome this news I bring you.”
“Then here, drink your wine and sit in that chair, that is right. Now, tell me what you have learned.”
Kefaan sat in the chair, stretched his legs out, and drank some more. “I will tell you, then.”
“You perceive, I am eagerly listening.”
“This is it: I have learned the name of the forger.”
“Ah, ah! You have!”
“Without question. You perceive, my friend Tigra was able to discover certain things.”
“Well, but then, who was it?”
“A certain Chreotha named Sajen. He pretends to be an artist, though he’s had little success. He lived right here in Candletown.”
She frowned. “Candletown. Yes, certainly, that is where they’d have found someone. And yet, you say ‘lived.’ Is he dead?”
“No, but he has left the city. I do not yet know where.”
“Do we have evidence of who hired him?”
“Evidence, my sister? Do you mean, evidence that could be used to bring a prosecution?”
“Exactly.”
“There is no such evidence. Those who are behind this have been too careful to permit any such mistakes.”
“Then we must find a way to cause him to be forced to testify under the Orb.”
Kefaan frowned. “That will not be easy.”
“With this, I agree.”
“Moreover, if anyone knows we are attempting this—”
“Well?”
“Come, my sister. We have seen these people work. What will they do if this is discovered?”
Livosha thought it over, then shuddered. “They will have him killed, won’t they, in order to prevent their crimes from being discovered.”
“That is right.”
“Then what must we do?”
“We must stay far away from this Sajen until we are ready to move.”
“Move, my brother? Move in what way?”
“As to that, well, I don’t know. You perceive, we do not yet have a plan.”
“Yes, I had been aware of this circumstance.”
“Can we come up with one, sister?”
“Not yet, I think. There is too much we don’t know.”
“Then I shall continue learning what I can.”
“And you will be right to do so. But for now—”
“Yes, for now?”
“It is time to visit the market.”
“So much am I in agreement with this plan that I am prepared to leave at once.”
“So much the better.”
They at once put this plan into action, and soon found themselves again in the market, once more each with a basket, testing fruits, examining vegetables, and exchanging gossip with merchants. Livosha held and caressed a Cordiri Longsword made of Hudalo steel with a reinforced tang and a hilt that could have been made for her hand. She sighed and returned it to the merchant. Kefaan, for his part, gazed longingly at yellow- and red- and blue-colored large-cut silks imported from Elde and dyed locally, but didn’t touch them.
They moved on, passing by a distillery supplier full of copper tubes, vats and buckets, and past a sweet old man who had been selling his home-grown cut roses, loveyous, and carnations as long as anyone remembered, at which point Livosha suddenly stopped, gasped, and grabbed Kefaan’s arm with the greatest possible emotion, such that he instantly looked at her, then followed the direction of her gaze.
We can well imagine the reader’s reaction to this development. No doubt, thinks the reader, Livosha has either seen someone she recognizes and didn’t expect to see, or perhaps someone who, for various reasons based on dress, attitude, and other subtleties, she has deduced is a threat, or perhaps something entirely different, but, in any case, the reader must necessarily conclude that Livosha has been startled, and therefore the reader is liable to be as well. Perhaps, the reader speculates, we are about to see a threat, even violence directed at the pair we have followed for so long. Might they be in danger? Is it possible, the reader wonders, that, as the result of such violence, we may, in fact, lose one or both of these persons with whom (at least in the hopes of the author) the reader has developed a certain sympathy? Is there to be tragedy? Then perhaps the reader frowns, thinking, would the historian so cruelly deprive us of the company of those we have come to cherish? Even if the facts require it, thinks the reader (or so we speculate), what sort of brute, with no sympathy for the finer sensitivity of the reader, would so callously separate us from those we love? Or, wonders the reader, will there be excitement? Or will there be significant information suddenly revealed both to Livosha and, necessarily, to the reader?
The reader may rest assured that we have no intention of artificially generating suspense that does not flow naturally from the events of history, wherefore, we will answer these questions without delay.
“That Teckla!” said Livosha. “I know her!”
“Which Teckla?”
“Do you see? Where I am looking. Of around five or six hundred years, in the green pantaloons and pale headband, with the drooping eye.”
“Well, my sister, you know her. And yet you must know many Teckla.”
“That is true,” said Livosha.
“So then why is this one remarkable? I conclude that she is remarkable because, well, you have remarked upon her.”
“That is true, I did,” agreed Livosha, who could not deny the validity of the observation.
“So then?”
“Well, in the first place, I know her from Wetrock.”
“Ah.”
“In the second place, she once served Eremit and his family.”
“Well, to be sure, that is worthy of some notice.”
“And third—”
“Yes, and third?”
“I had thought she was dead.”
“Ah, now I understand entirely.”
“I am glad that you do. Come, we must speak with her.”
“Very well.”
Still holding her brother’s arm, she led the way to the Teckla whom we have just had the honor, through Livosha’s voice, to describe. Livosha stood beside the Teckla, who was examining the contents of a table filled with exotic and aromatic cheese. The Teckla glanced at her, politely moving out of the way and lowering her eyes, then looked at her again, more slowly, and an amazed and delighted grin broke out on her countenance.
“My lady Livosha!” she cried.
So effluent was her unconstrained joy that Livosha could not help smiling in return. “Yes, it is I, good Jerin. And this is my brother Kefaan.”
“My lord Kefaan!” she cried. “Why, he was but a child when I saw him last, upon the occasion of the Migrant’s Feast in the fall of eighty-one, that is to say, four eighty-one, when he was brought for his first salt tasting.”
“You perceive,” said Kefaan, “As considerable time has passed, well, I have grown.”
“That is true,” said Jerin, struck by the extreme justice of this observation.
“But,” said Livosha, “how is it you are not dead? I saw what became of the manor.”
“Ah, you wish to know that?”
“I do, good Jerin, and the proof is, I have asked.”
“That is true!” cried the Teckla. “Well, then I shall tell you.”
“Come,” said Kefaan. “Let us move away from the crowd, to an area where we can speak without being overheard.”
“I agree,” said Livosha, somewhat abashed that she had not thought of this herself, yet pleased that it had been thought of for her.
Kefaan led them to an out-of-the-way and empty corner of the market, where they could not fail to see anyone who approached. Upon reaching it, Jerin said, “So, shall I now answer your question?”
“Yes, yes,” said Livosha breathlessly. “How did you survive the explosion?”
“In the simplest way: I was not in the house.”
“How, not in the house?”
“I was in the stables, tending to the horses.”
“Ah, the horses!”
“Yes. The blast killed poor Spark outright, and left Rose, Hopper, and Sapphire so injured that I was forced to cut their throats with the mercy-knife. Of all the horses, only Ginger was unharmed, for she was in the back stall, and so when the stable fell down, as a result of the explosion, a slanting beam happened to land in such a way as to protect her and, moreover, me, for I was at that instant brushing her.”
“Well, but what did you do?” asked Kefaan, who had now become interested in the events the Teckla was relaying.
“Why, I ran! I had thought to take Ginger to help me escape, but, in the first place, I did not know how I would feed her, as I had no money to buy fodder.”
“Well, I understand that,” said Kefaan. “And in the second place?”
“I feared that anyone seeing a Teckla riding such a beast might conclude I had stolen her, which, after all, would be not far from the truth, and that, upon this conclusion, I might have my head separated from my body, as is done with those who steal horses when they cannot afford an advocate or a trial.”
“Well, I understand that,” said Kefaan, who, being an Iorich, was perfectly aware of the veracity of the Teckla’s words. Indeed, we must observe that Jerin’s comment was entirely true at the time of which we have the honor to write, and if to-day such injustices as execution without trial for the peasant have been alleviated, it is only thanks to the beneficence of Her Majesty Norathar, carrying forward the work of Zerika the Generous, and it behooves us to express our gratitude to these enlightened rulers, for it is a simple truth that the only way the poor and unfortunate of the world come to have better lives is when those above them kindly grant these boons, as no such improvements can occur as the result of the actions of the afflicted themselves.
“So then,” continued the Teckla, who of course had continued speaking without reference to the historian’s disquisition, “I ran to the shore and hid myself in Mistress Potter’s boat.”
“And it was well done, too,” said Livosha.
Jerin bowed to acknowledge the compliment Livosha had done her the honor to pay her and continued. “After that—for I perceive you wish to hear my history—”
“Certainly,” said Livosha.
“We are most curious,” said Kefaan.
“After that,” continued the Teckla, “Mistress Potter permitted me to remain in the boat and was so complaisant as to carry me along the coast as far as Lowfang Rock.”
“Well, and then?” said Livosha.
“Since that time I have been making my way along the coast, looking for work as a groom and managing to find work on fishing boats.”
“And so you came here.”
“Yes, my lady. I have recently secured a position as stable boy for a certain Dzurlord named Baroness Frith. I am promised promotion if I serve faithfully and well.”
“And would you like to be stable master yourself some day?” asked Kefaan.
“Well, my lord, you perceive I have never lost my love of horses. Such would be my highest ambition.”
“I understand. I hope you achieve this goal, and I thank you for telling us your history, engaging as it was both for myself and my sis—but Livosha, you are frowning.”
“Well, and if I am?”
“I should like to know what causes you to frown.”
“Well, the horses.”
“What of them?”
“I will address my question to Jerin, for, you perceive, I have a question that she can answer.”
“That is wise, then,” agreed Kefaan.
“And so,” said Livosha, now speaking to the Teckla, “you have explained what became of Rose, Hopper, Sapphire, and Ginger.”
“I am glad that I did, my lady, for it was my intention to do so.”
“And you succeeded admirably.”
“That is gratifying.”
“And yet—”
“Well, and yet?”
“If my arithmetic is not wrong, and I may say without false modesty that it rarely is, then that is four horses.”
Jerin frowned, concentrated, and ticked off the names on her fingers, after which she looked up from her fingers and said, “My lady, if you are wrong, well, so am I, for my number agrees with yours.”
“So much the better.”
“Oh, indeed!” said the Teckla. “For, you perceive, I am not an arithmetist, and have never studied ciphering, and so I feel no small pride at thus arriving at a number so close to—that is to say, identical with—the one you deduced.”
“You pride is justified, good Jerin. And yet—”
“Well?”
“It seems to me that there should be five horses.”
“How, five?”
“Yes. Attend me. Sudora had a horse.”
“That is true, and the proof is, it was Ginger.”
“Nessit, for his part, had two horses.”
“They were Sapphire and Rose.”
“And then there was the horse they kept in case a guest should wish to ride.”
“That was Hopper, who was always restive and fiery until he was mounted, at which time he became the most gentle beast who ever trotted.”
“Very good. But then—”
“Well?”
“Eremit had a horse as well.”
“Oh, certainly. Stony. She had markings upon her nose that looked like two rocks, and she could gallop all day without a rest.”
“But then—”
“Well?”
“What became of her? For you perceive, she was not among the horses you listed.”
“Oh, what became of her?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“I should imagine she was left at the post stable in Hargon’s Point.”
“Hargon’s Point?”
“Yes, it is a village—”
“I know where it is, good Jerin, for I have been there many times. And yet—”
“Well?”
“Why would Stony be there?”
“Well, no doubt young Eremit left her there, for, you perceive, he would have exchanged her for a fresh mount.”
“But when would he have done that?”
“Why, on the night of the explosion, my lady.”
“What is it you tell me?”
“Perhaps you did not know? On that very night, young Eremit was sent on a mission.”
“A mission? To where?”
“Dorindom.”
“Dorindom?”
“Exactly.”
“But, what was the nature of the mission?”
“Oh, as to that, I give you my word, I have not the least idea. And yet—”
“Yes, and yet?”
“To judge by the expression upon his countenance that night—for it was the last time I ever saw the poor young man, and so I remember it well—to judge by his expression, I say, it was a matter about which there was no question of joking.”
“To Dorindom,” repeated Livosha.
“And so,” put in Kefaan, “he was not in the explosion.”
“Oh, not at all.”
“But then,” said Livosha, “if he was not killed, perhaps he is alive!”
“Well,” said Kefaan, “if you are saying that he is alive if he is not dead, I cannot dispute this reasoning, and yet I can think of no reason for believing he is not dead.”
“But, why would he be dead?”
“In the first place, if he is not dead, where is he?”
“As to that, I cannot say, except that perhaps he is doing as we are, that is to say, hiding.”
“Well, that is true. But, but in the second place—”
“Yes? In the second place?”
“If he arrived at Dorindom, would not the count have, well, I loathe to put it into words, hate to say it my dear sister, but might he not have had him killed, as he had all of the others killed, with the exception of us, and that not for lack of trying?”
“That is true,” said Livosha. “And yet—”
“Well?”
“We do not know that he is dead.”
“I do not dispute you on this point.”
“And so, I would wish to discover it, to be certain.”
“My sister, I fear what will happen to you if you permit yourself to hope.”
Livosha was silent after he said this, then looked up and met his eye. “I understand,” she said, “what you do me the honor—and the kindness—to tell me. Nevertheless, I must know.”
“Very well,” said Kefaan. “If that is your choice, I accept it. But how are we to find out?”
“Ah, well, as Vithraw said to Drusk about the broken bottle, you have touched the exact spot.”
“And then?”
“Do we know anyone who knows anyone who might have been at the castle, and perhaps seen him enter, or leave, or while he was within?”
Kefaan gave this question a moment’s consideration, then said, “No one I can think of.”
This entire time, Jerin, whom the reader may recall, had remained silent, as if she had no part to play in this exchange of thoughts among those of such a higher station than herself. At this point, however, she cleared her throat, thus attracting the attention of the two Iorich, which, having secured this attention, she bowed and said, “Is there a way in which I can help?”
Kefaan frowned. “You wish to help?”
Livosha tilted her head and said, “Are you aware of what you would be helping with?”
“Why,” said Jerin, “you wish for vengeance against those who have injured the Baroness of Wetrock and her family, and, if I may be permitted to make a deduction based on your presence here—”
“Oh, by all means, do so,” said Livosha.
“—also your own family.”
“You are not wrong,” said Kefaan.
“And then?”
“But, how could you help?” said Livosha.
Jerin considered this question, then said, “I am good with horses.”
“I do not doubt that,” said Livosha. “And yet—”
“Also, I can cook.”
“I have nothing to say against cooking,” said Kefaan. “But—”
“In addition, I can fish.”
“Fishing,” said Livosha, “is a good thing, no doubt. And yet—”
“I know my letters,” said Jerin.
Kefaan nodded. “Well, but—”
“Also, I can hear things.”
Kefaan stopped. “You hear things?”
The Teckla nodded. “Certainly I hear things.”
“But,” said Livosha, “what sort of things do you hear?”
“Why, the sort of things people will say in front of a Teckla that they would never say in front of a person. And moreover—”
“Yes, moreover?”
“Servants talk to each other.”
“How, they do?” said Livosha, who had been unaware of this circumstance.
“I give you my word, it is so.”
“And then?”
“I can speak to servants, who will gladly tell me things that their masters have said in front of them, not being aware of their presence.”
Livosha looked at Jerin as she went over certain episodes in her past and considered them in, as it were, a new light. As she did this, the Teckla looked down as if embarrassed. At length Livosha looked at her brother with an expression of inquiry, to which the latter responded with a shrug like a Lyorn.
“Very well, then,” said Livosha. “I agree that this is valuable. But do you know anyone who was in Castle Dorindom at the time Eremit arrived?”
“I have a friend I see nearly every day who has a sister who works in the kitchen of Dorindom Castle, and the proof is, they both learned their letters in secret in order to write to each other, which they do every month, sometimes more.”
We should add, for the sake of those of our readers who are unfamiliar with history, that laws forbidding Teckla to read have changed a thousand times within the Empire, and were at times different among the various Houses, and at times varied by duchy. At the time of which we have the honor to write, the Empire had forbidden it, but the law was roundly ignored by those who had a reason for wishing a servant to be lettered, or by those who, such as Livosha’s mother, simply did not care—thus we learn that, even among the Iorich, some laws were considered of more importance than others, a circumstance which, we dare to suggest, has been true as long as laws have existed.
“Well,” said Livosha as she considered the remarkable intelligence she had just received from the Teckla, “and so you might learn something?”
“It is possible.”
“And you are willing to try?”
“If your ladyship wishes.”
“Oh, I wish very much.”
“Then I will do so.”
“You are a treasure, I tell you so.”
“And if I learn something, what then?”
“I will,” said Kefaan, jumping in suddenly, “give you a way to reach me.” Livosha looked at him, and he said, “If there is a rumor or a hint, I beg you will let me look into it. I will tell you what I learn, but at least you need not be tormented by an endless series of false trails.”
She nodded. “Very well, then. I agree with your plan, although it seems to me that you do not truly think it possible that he lived.”
“Perhaps I do not.”
“And yet, it is possible.”
“How? You perceive, we know that Count Dorin was part of the conspiracy, and we know that poor Eremit walked innocently into his very keep. How could he have been permitted to escape?”
“It is true that, if he arrived at the castle and gave his name, the count would have had him killed.”
“Well, but, why would he have not given his name?”
“Either because he suspected there was danger, or—”
“Well, or?”
“He habitually called himself Eremit, son of Nessit, because of how often he was told he took after his father.”
“Yes, and so?”
“But his mother was the baroness, and it would have been her name that the count would have alerted his retainers to listen for.”
“That may be true. But, what then?”
“Then if he had been admitted to see the count, in front of witnesses, well, the count would be unable to kill him without it being known, an action that would ruin everything.”
“I understand, dear sister. And yet, if this is true, and the count feared to kill him, well, where is he?”
“I admit I do not know. But still, it is possible.”
To this, Kefaan could make no answer, although, in fact, he did not, to judge by the expression on his countenance, appear convinced.
“You do not appear convinced,” said Livosha, who was, in the natural course of things, able to come to this conclusion sooner than the historian, who must wait until after events have occurred in order to discover them to the reader.
“That is true, my dear sister,” said Kefaan. “And yet—”
“Yes, and yet?”
“This uncertainty will not prevent me from investigating the matter as thoroughly as I am able. And so, as we have agreed, good Jerin here will speak to those she knows, and convey to me what she learns, and from there I will discover what I can.”
“Do you think your, that is to say, your friend will be of any assistance?”
“It is not impossible that he will. In any case, should Jerin learn anything, that is how I will begin.”
“Very good, I agree with this plan. Apropos, Jerin, how are we to reach you?”
“In care of the stable master of Baroness Frith, Frith Estates, Hillside.”
“Does the stable master know his letters?”
“As well as I,” she said. “But how am I to reach you should I be so fortunate as to learn something?”
“You see,” said Jerin, “using this stub of pencil, and this scrap of paper, I write out where Livosha and I are lodged. A note sent to this address will not fail to reach us.”
“Very good,” said Jerin, accepting the paper as if it were a five-imperial gold piece. “I will write when I learn something.”
“Very well, then,” said Kefaan. “It is agreed.”
Jerin bowed very low. “Thank you, my lord, my lady. I will endeavor not to disappoint you.”
“We will see you soon,” said Livosha.
“It cannot be too soon for me,” said the Teckla.
“With this,” said Kefaan grimly, “I cannot disagree.”
They went their separate ways, then, Livosha and Kefaan to continue their business in the market, Jerin to return to her own home and resume her duties.
It was, in fact, only ten days later—a testament not only to the industry of Jerin and Kefaan, but, we are forced to add, to the efficiency of the post—that Livosha, upon returning home, was greeted by the sight of her brother anxiously pacing the floor. As she walked in the door, he cried, “Ah, you are home!”
Without even waiting to sit, she said, “You have made a discovery.”
“I have been uncertain,” he said, “whether I should even tell you what I have learned, for nothing is certain, indeed, what I have discovered is so far from certain that I can only barely call it possible. And yet—”
“Well, and yet? Speak! You see I am dying!”
“Six days ago, I received a letter from Jerin—whose hand, I must say, is remarkably good for a Teckla—”
“You are killing me, Kefaan!”
“—and I have been looking into the information she supplied, with the help of my friend, who has been extraordinarily helpful, and—”
“Kefaan!”
“He was arrested.”
“How, arrested?”
“The count swore out a writ of felony, which, as you know, he may do on his own without the need to present evidence, as he is the person to whom the evidence would need to be presented.”
“But, arrested for what?”
“That I was unable to learn.”
“And taken where?”
“My sister, it is my opinion, I am sorry to tell you this, that he must have been taken off to be murdered.”
“But then, why arrest him?”
“For appearances. He was seen, unconscious, being carried from the castle by the Kinship.”
“The Kinship!”
“So then, he is taken away to somewhere private, and—”
“Kefaan!”
“Well?”
“The Kinship would never lend itself to such doings.”
Kefaan frowned. “You are right. I had not considered that. And yet, if not, where is he? There is no record of him in any prison, nor has there been a trial. If he lives, well, where?”
Livosha was silent for a long time, then. “The Kinship brought him somewhere, somewhere they thought it was right to bring him, because they would not have done anything else, and because they keep records, and thus, even if we cannot see the records, they would put themselves at risk by doing anything else.”
“And then?”
“Where could they have brought him where you could not find him, but that seemed to the Kinship to be proper?”
“What are you thinking?”
“That there is, somewhere, a secret prison, known to the powerful in the Iorich, and maybe others, and to the Kinship, but to no one else.”
“Why would such a prison exist?”
“The Empire’s Challenge of Tikara.”
“I don’t understand—ah, ah! Yes, I see what you mean.”
Livosha nodded and said, “So it is possible.”
“But if such a place existed,” said Kefaan, “how would we find it?”
“There is the law,” said Livosha. “And, as has been discussed in the legal philosophies, the very existence of the law implies the potential for it to be broken.”
“Well, and?”
“So then, if those who work with the law cannot find us the answers—”
“Those who break it might!” cried Kefaan. “Yes, my sister, you reason like an Athyra, as I have had more than one occasion to observe.”
“And then?”
“I will use all of my influence, all of the friendship I have accumulated, and seek to discover if such a place exists, and, if so, where it is.”
“My affection for you, my brother, has never wavered, but now it is beyond my power to express.”
“So, then, you are not sorry you saved me?” he said with a smile. Then, without waiting for an answer, he picked up his cloak and said, “I will not waste a minute, but, on the contrary, will begin my investigations at once. I give you my word, if there is anything to be learned, well, I will learn it.”
For some few weeks, then, nothing out of the ordinary happened, although Livosha struggled with an impatience that was difficult to contain and even more difficult to conceal. Was Eremit alive? If so, what had been done to him? Had he been starved? Tortured? The thought filled her with such anger that, distracted, one day she put Lady Ficora’s wine glass on the incorrect side of the lady’s chair.
“What is wrong with you,” snapped the countess. “If you cannot even pay attention to the simplest tasks, then—”
She broke off because Livosha, still thinking of what might have been done to Eremit, had turned and looked at her with such an expression on her countenance that Ficora only coughed, muttered, “Well,” and condescended to adjust her own wine glass. Moreover, her ladyship had, remarkably, nothing to complain of in the service she received for the rest of the day.
It was two or three months after that, which is to say, the middle of summer, which in Candletown meant time spent on the beaches or finding high places where the breeze could reach, that Livosha was walking home from work. The heat of the day had mediated as evening came on, and, in fact, the light was failing when a gentleman in the dress of the House of the Issola, and moreover, extremely well cut, featuring a white doublet open at the chest, green hose, green boots, with a few emeralds and rubies tastefully pinned here and there, caught her eye. As they approached each other, he held up his hand, bowed, and said, “Might I trouble you for a moment, my lady? I am a stranger here, and have become lost.”
“I will be glad to help you in any way I can,” she said.
“You are very kind.”
“Well, then? What is it you wish?”
“Are you familiar with a certain Lady Ficora?”
“Nearly. I have just come from her estate.”
“Ah, so much the better! Then you can direct me there?”
“It is the easiest thing in the world, for we are at this moment, on the very street.”
“Then it will be easy. Apropos, I am called Nyleth.”
“A pleasure, Nyleth.”
“And you?”
“My name is K’hidith,” said Livosha.
“Ah, well, that is an unusual name to be sure.”
“Indeed,” said Livosha. “I am told that it comes from a peculiar game played by the Serioli, and is the cry the winner makes to end the game.”
“Oh, indeed?”
“Yes. Would you like to know the exact translation?”
“Why, I would like nothing better.”
“It means,” she said, “‘You lose.’” As she pronounced these words, she drew her sword and instantly passed it through the body of the man before her, who gasped and sank to his knees.
“You have killed me!” he said.
“This may be true. Although it is possible that you could still be saved. You perceive, I am not a physicker, and am therefore uncertain as to your prospects or prognosis.”
“But why—”
“Why I did run my sword through your body?”
“Yes, that is the exact question to which I desire an answer.”
“Then I will explain my thoughts that led up to my decision to act.”
“I would be grateful if you did.”
“This is it, then. With the Issola at the very bottom of the Cycle, seeing one so richly appointed is bound to incite suspicion.”
“Well, I accept that. I am used to clothing of good cut.”
“And then,” she continued, “you demanded my name when, being suspicious, I chose not to give it. No Issola would be so rude.”
“Ah, I understand that.”
“And finally, when I gave my name, I perceived a certain astonishment, as if I were not who you had expected me to be. Thus I became certain that you were not only not an Issola, but, to judge from your complexion and countenance, almost certainly an Orca, and one, moreover, sent to do me harm. This I confirmed just now, when a concealed dagger fell from your hand.”
“Well, but—”
“Come, my friend. Answer my questions like a good fellow, and I will see if I can find treatment for you.”
“I have no reason not to tell you the truth, the more-so as I am nearly dead. Therefore, I accept your terms.”
“So much the better. Who sent you?”
“Berwick,” he said.
“Then he knows where I am?”
“He has traced you to Candletown. There are many of us now looking in each area.”
“And yet, you asked for the home of the Countess Ficora.”
“I thought that, perhaps, you would find work in service, and inquired as to who had servants of the House of the Iorich.”
“That was well thought.”
“Thank you.”
“Have you told anyone else?”
“No, and now it seems I will not be able to.”
“That remains to be seen. If I am able to save you, will you keep this matter to yourself?”
“As for the idea of searching among servants, I give you my word I will. And as to the fight—”
“Well?”
“It is hardly something I would boast of.”
“Very well. Those are all my questions, then, and, as I have promised, I will attempt to find assistance to save your life.”
“You are gracious.”
“Well. Wait here.”
As she said this, she withdrew her sword from his body, at which time he gasped, and his eyes grew wide, and he pitched forward onto his face, stone dead.
“Ah,” she told the corpse. “I had not realized that would happen. You have my apology. And, moreover, I apologize for cleaning my weapon on your fine clothing. But now, unless I wish to draw attention to myself, which I give you my word I do not, I must away to home, where I will tell my brother what I have learned, and we will together consider how this new development affects our plans, such as they are.”
Having politely explained this to the dead man, she sheathed her weapon and returned home, noting, “Well, I find that I am trembling. And yet, I do not feel afraid. Perhaps this is a natural reaction to killing one’s first enemy? Perhaps I ought to feel sorrow, and yet, he had every intention of killing me, and I do not believe he would have been sad if he had done so.”
With these thoughts running through her mind, she returned at once to her home, fortunately being some distance from the body before she saw anyone.