26: The Sixth Judgment

 

“Rosie is not a horse!” the dowager barked.

I sighed. The bitter old crone was not going to face the truth, no matter what knots she had to tie her mind in.

“No, my lady. She is a drudge. Do you know what drudgery does to people? I can name many great houses where the horses are better treated than the scullery staff.”

The soldier intervened, speaking with quiet authority. It was as if he stepped between two quarreling drunks. “Your parable was amusing, Omar, but how does it fit? What exactly is your argument? The horse you described pawed the ground until it saw that it had pleased the questioner. Then it stopped and received a reward. I have known many very smart horses, but Rosie does not paw the ground.”

“She stutters!” I said. “Tell me if this is how it happens? You ask her something—the name of her mother’s mother, for example. She goes off to ask Verl, or the image she thinks is Verl. Then she comes back and you repeat the question. She is very nervous, she stutters, gabbles … In the case of her grandmother’s name … What did the margrave’s housekeeper say her mother’s name was, by the way?”

He shrugged. “They think it was Marsha, but no one is sure after all these years.”

“She believes her own name is Rosalind and her mother’s was Sweet-rose, so naturally she might begin with noises like those names. The correct answer is Rose-dawn, so you smile and nod, right? Whenever she makes noises that sound like the answer you want, you show signs of agreement.” I looked around for my own signs of encouragement. “All her life, Rosie has been the lowest of the low. She has had to satisfy a dozen people, all at the same time—every one of them shouting at her to do something and all entitled to strike her. Of course she has learned how to please people! I don’t think she knows she is doing it.”

“Rubbish!” the dowager muttered. No one disagreed.

I had not won much support, obviously.

Gwill yawned. The yawn spread around the room. Dawn was here. Tallow fumes from the candles burdened the air. We were all feeling the long night. I sensed that more people were thinking of following Rosie upstairs to bed. If I lost my audience, then I should have Fritz to deal with. But there was another riddle left unsolved, and it should be cleared out of the way first. I looked to the merchant, who was yawning harder than any, stretching his thick arms.

“Well, Burgomaster? Have you no story to tell us, to complete the evening?”

He eyed me sourly and then glanced thoughtfully at his wife. Marla looked brighter than anyone, but of course she must be accustomed to long, hard nights in her line of work.

She glowed a coy smile at him. “It does seem late, Johein darling! Why don’t we run upstairs and cuddle into bed, mm?” She fondled the gold chain across his paunch.

He raised his bushy brows in sudden interest. “Sleepy, beloved?”

“Oh, a little. Tired of all this talk.” She stroked his cheek.

“Ahem!” the soldier said. “Burgomaster, you never did tell us why you had engaged the services of Master Tickenpepper to advise you on the laws of Verlia.”

The merchant pondered a moment, then shrugged his fat shoulders. “Well, I was planning to keep it as a surprise. My dear wife and I are on our honeymoon, you realize.”

Gwill choked. “You take a lawyer along on your honeymoon, sir?”

Fritz and the soldier smothered laughs. Even the dowager made an odd coughing noise.

The fat man glared. “Watch your tongue, minstrel!” He eyed the dowager with equal contempt. “I suppose now is as good a time as any for the truth to come out. I don’t know I believe Omar’s drivel about the horse, ma’am, but I know that your precious Rosie is not what you think she is.”

“Then pray enlighten us!”

“Darling?” said the actress. She leaned over to kiss him. “Don’t you love me more than that boring Rosie?”

“Later, beloved.”

“Now, darling!”

“Later, I said! I have to tell the seventh story, to solve the mystery.”

“Oo!” Marla squealed, in a sudden change of tactics. “Solve the mystery? That is exciting! What is the surprise, my love? A surprise for me?”

He patted her knee. “You will be as surprised as anyone, my little chaffinch.” He cleared his throat pompously, frowning around to make sure we were all paying attention. “I am Burgomaster Johein, chief magistrate of Schlosbelsh. By profession, I am an importer. I inherited the business from my father, and built it into one of the largest in the Volkslander. I am rated as the wealthiest man in the city—barring the great landowners, of course, and I know for a fact that not a few of them … Well, never mind. I have four sons and two daughters still living. My first wife died some years ago. I had been intending to take another, but pressure of business kept me from getting around to it. A serious matter, choosing a wife, you know!”

“My good fortune that you delayed, darling,” the actress said, fanning him with her lashes.

I caught Gwill’s eye and hastily looked away. I recalled that steamy, scented parlor in the Velvet Stable in Gilderburg, and the girls dancing on the tables. Then I tried to picture the assembled civic fathers of Schlosbelsh being gracious to the burgomaster’s new wife. The mind…

What exactly is boggling, anyway?