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MAGISTRATE: What first brought him to your attention?

LEFITT: His remark about starting the healing process.

BORAAN: When those in power wish to start the healing process, my lord, it means there are things they don't want you to find out.

LEFITT (hastily): Present company excepted, of course!

BORAAN: Oh yes, to be sure.

LEFITT: May we offer Your Lordship oishka and water?

—Miersen, Six Parts Water
Day Two, Act IV, Scene 5

The smell wasn't as bad. There was a wind from the west and it was cold, too cold for mid-spring. I pulled my cloak around me and thought about going back to my room to get warmer stuff, but then I'd have to put up with remarks from Loiosh, and it didn't seem worth it.

"Boss?"

"Yeah?"

"What now?"

"Now I find someone who'll talk to me."

"So, you don't trust him?"

"Yes. No. I don't know. I need to know more. And, dammit, I want to find them."

"Why?"

"Loiosh—"

"No, Boss, really. When we came over the mountain, it was something to do since we were here anyway. Now it's become this thing you have to do. Why?"

Part of his job is asking me the hard questions.

While I was trying to think up a good answer, my feet carried me over to the pier. If you've lost track, it was the middle of the day. The factory across the river was belching gray smoke into the air. The wind was coming from the mountains (which I'm told is unusual) so at least the stench wasn't bad. People—not many, mostly mothers with children in arms—were walking along the streets behind me. I didn't worry about them, because Loiosh was—

"Someone's coming, Boss. Woman, doesn't seem threatening, and doesn't seem to be walking up to you in particular."

"Okay."

I didn't turn around, and presently there were footfalls behind and to my right. Soft-soled shoes that quietly "sawooshed," probably darr skin or something like it. I saw her out of the corner of my eye, about ten feet away, and turned and nodded. She nodded back. She was around my age, maybe a bit older. Her eyes, which I noticed first, were an intriguing gray; her hair was black, I suspected dyed, and fell in long ringlets well past her shoulders. Her nose was straight, her form very pleasant, curvy; some time in my past I'd have been interested, and that part of me must not have been completely dead or I'd not have noticed. She wore long silvery ear-rings, and several rings on her fingers. Her dress was forest green, with a low, square neckline, and large obvious ties down the front; it didn't quite reach her ankles and the red ruffle of her flaisl^* was just visible below the hem. She wore slippers the same color as her eyes.

I turned back to studying the smoke from the factory. She seemed to be doing the same. After a few minutes she said, "Looking for a little fun?"

"No thanks," I said. "I hate fun. Never wanted any. Even as a child, I'd run and hide if it looked like someone wanted me to have fun. I was pleased to grow up, because now I can go through the rest of my life without ever having fun."

She laughed perfunctorily then gave a sort of sigh and continued watching the factory. I figured her work-day would likely begin when the place closed for the evening.

"Is the Guild in charge of your profession too?" I asked her.

You never know how tags will react to questions about their work. Sometimes they'll talk about it the way you'd talk about the prospective harvest if the frost didn't come early; sometimes they'd give a sort of haughty glance as if figuring you were getting excited by asking; sometimes they'd become angry as if any question about how they made their daily bread was more personal than the act itself—which I guess maybe it was.

She just said, "The Guild runs everything."

"I was getting that impression. I'm Vlad."

She looked at me, then looked back across the river. "Well met, Vlad. I'm Tereza. What in the name of the Three Sisters would bring you to this crappy little town?"

There were lines in the corners of her eyes and on her forehead that she hadn't quite managed to conceal with her makeup, but I guess the makeup wasn't expected to function in full light. The lines made her more attractive.

"I came for the aroma."

A smile flickered quickly.

"In fact," I went on, "I've been standing here asking myself the same question. Mostly, I'm passing through on the way to somewhere else. Or I guess from somewhere else. But I understand I have kin somewhere around here, and I'd like to find them."

"Oh. Who?"

"The name is Merss."

She turned her head and gave me a long, measuring look. I waited.

"I can't help you," she said at last.

I nodded. "I'm beginning to suspect they aren't here at all," I said, because a good lie can loosen tongues better than a bad truth.

"I know who would be will—that is, able to tell you many things about this town," she said.

"Oh? Well, that's the most hopeful thing I've heard today."

She hesitated, then said, "It'll cost you."

I looked at her.

She sighed. "Oh, all right. There's a public house called the Cellar Mouse."

"Yes, I saw it."

"In back of it are stables. Most nights, there will be a man there named Zollie. He's the coachman for Count Saekeresh. He knows everyone and everything, and he's the Lord's coachman so no one can touch him; or at least so he thinks. Get him liquored up a bit and he'll tell you anything."

I dug an imperial out, walked over and put it into her palm. She did that thing people do when judging the weight of a coin, and said, "Is it gold?"

"Pure. Don't spend it all in one place."

She laughed. "I owe you, Vlad. Fenario, here I come!" She grinned and kissed my cheek. She was nearly as tall as I was. She was much more attractive when she was smiling. I watched as she walked away, a nice spring in her step.

After a bit, I took myself over to the Cellar Mouse, which was a lot like the Pointy Hat (as I'd started calling the other place in my head) except the room was longer and the ceiling a bit higher. The tables were all small and round. After the usual reserved but not-unfriendly nods, I took a glass of wine to a small table and set in to nursing it until the evening.

The place started filling up quickly as dark came, mostly with men who had both the look and the smell of the factory across the river. There were also a few girls, all of whom wore gowns with obvious ties down the front and ankles uncovered. Sometimes one would leave with a workman, heading into the back. A couple of them looked at me, but none came over.

I studied the people, for lack of anything else to do, and worked on memorizing the faces for no reason except that it's good practice. Eventually, I made my way out the door and around back. The stable was directly to the rear about fifty feet, and, from what I could see, connected to a sort of paddock. Outside of it was a tall coach, and even in the dim light that leaked out of the inn it seemed to glisten. There was a marking of some sort on the door, and no horses were attached. Where there was a coach, there would be a coachman. And where there's a coachman, there are stories. And where there are stories, there are answers to questions, and maybe even the right ones.

I went in.

It smelled of fresh hay, old hay, wet hay, moldy hay, and manure. It was a big improvement. There were ten stalls, four of which were occupied by horses of various colors and sizes, the fifth by a skinny fellow wearing black, with a high-domed forehead over thick brows, making him look, well, a bit ridiculous. His hands were folded over his stomach, and there were several odd white scars crisscrossing the backs of them. He sat on a low stool, and his eyes were closed, but opened as I came closer; I saw no trace of sleep in them, nor sign of drunkenness—the latter being unusual, if you believe all you've heard about coachmen.

"If you've come for a ride to the manor," he said in a clear voice, somewhat higher pitched than you'd guess from looking at him, "you're too late. If you've come for a story, you're too early. If you've come to buy me a drink, your timing could not be improved."

"I have questions and money," I said.

"Make the money liquid, and I'll answer the questions."

"Good enough. What do you wish?"

"Wine. White wine. And the better it is, the better your answers will be."

"I'll be back directly."

He nodded and closed his eyes.

He opened them a few minutes later when I returned with his wine as well as something red for myself. He sniffed his, drank it, nodded, and said, "Grab a stool." There were a few low three-legged stools like a cobbler uses; I took one and sat on it opposite him. The horses shifted around, and one of them eyed me suspiciously as I walked in front of him. Or her. Or it. Or maybe it was looking at Loiosh and Rocza.

I sat down and said, "My name is Vlad."

He nodded. "They just call me Zollie, Kahchish, or Chish." He took some more wine. "Good choice. All right, Vlad. You had questions?"

"Many, many, many."

His smile was friendly. I believed it, provisionally. So, where to start?

"Do you know a family called Merss?"

"Sure," he said. "About six miles north, the little road past the walnut trees. Big white house that looks like it's been added to a lot. Unless you mean the cousins; they moved away some years ago. I don't know where, but probably to Fenario. The city, I mean."

"Oh," I said. "Thanks."

"It's about a half-hour ride."

"I don't ride."

He looked genuinely startled. "You've never been on a horse?"

"I have been; that's why I don't ride."

"Mmmm. Very well. What else?"

"Why wouldn't anyone else answer my question about them?"

"They're scared of the Guild."

"Yeah," I said. "The Guild. That would be my next question."

"It's everyone's question. Mine too. No one quite knows how it came to be what it is."

"You must know some of the history."

He finished his wine and held the mug out to me. "Some," he said.

"Keep it," I told him. "I'll be back with a jug."

"I'll be here," he said.

The place had filled up a bit, so it took me about ten minutes to get back. I handed him the jug and settled down again. "All right," I said. "The Guild."

"Yes. The Guild." He studied me for a bit. "Why the interest?"

"I kept running into them while I was trying to learn about the Merss family."

He studied me more carefully. "They're kin, aren't they?"

"I always thought I took after my father."

"The way your nostrils flare. Most of them have that. Is that what brings you to Burz?"

"Yes and no," I said.

He waited for me to continue, and when I didn't he just shrugged.

"Fenario is old kingdom, Vlad. Very old. Two thousand years, the same people, in the same land."

I didn't comment on how short two thousand years would seem to Morrolan or Aliera, much less to Sethra; I just nodded.

He continued, "The borders have shifted a bit over the years, and other things have changed." I nodded, because he seemed to expect it. He continued. "For the last few hundreds of years, the King hasn't been too concerned with the outlying provinces. He's done what he's had to to make sure the borders are secure, and other than that, pretty much left it up to the local Count to do as he would."

"Except for his taxes, I suppose."

"Sometimes yes, sometimes no."

"Mmm."

He shrugged. "Believe me, or not. As often as not, the King doesn't seem to care if the taxes are collected. At least, this far west. I suppose if he demands too much, he'll only encourage smuggling."

"All right," I said.

"So when things happened, we were on our own."

"What things?"

"The story is that the Count, the old Count, my Lord's grandfather, went off his head. Started thinking all the witches were trying to kill him or something."

"Were they?"

"Eventually."

"Hmmm."

"I don't know the whole story, of course. No one does. But somehow, the local witches split themselves into those who wanted to hide from the Count until his madness passed, and those who wanted to do something."

"Something like . . . ?"

"I don't know. Kill him? Cure him? What's the difference?"

"You remind me of some people I know."

He poured more wine into his mug. "So there was a long time—ten years? twenty? thirty?—when all the Count was doing was fighting witches. There are songs that list the diseases he contracted and was cured of. They probably aren't true either, but I imagine he was pretty busy. Still, things had to be managed, so it ended up with the Merchants' Guild more or less running things."

"Well, and later Counts? Didn't they have anything to say about that?"

"As I understand it, the old Count's son settled things for good and all."

"How did he do that?"

"Made a deal. You don't hurt me, I won't hurt you. Usually the Count is happy to get his silver and sit at home complaining about poachers."

"Strange."

"It's a strange town."

"Yes, you can smell that much."

He nodded. "The peasants don't like the stench from the factory, and they don't like all of their sons leaving the land to work indoors, but the factory is how the Count gets his silver, so the merchants make sure nothing interferes with it. They don't want the Count complaining to Fenario, you see, because there just might someday be a King who actually cares what's going on."

"A strange town," I repeated. "What's the difference between those witches who fought the Count and those who didn't?"

"Eh?"

"I mean, how has that changed?"

"Oh. I've no idea. No one except witches ever talk about it, and I've never studied the Art. Some say that those who were loyal to the Count only have birds and mice as familiars. I don't know if that's true."

"Is any of what you've told me true?"

He considered that. "I'm telling you a story. If you want history, go, ah, elsewhere. I don't know if it's true. We pass these things on, we coachmen."

"So, none of what you're telling me might actually have happened?"

"I'm sure some of it is related to what happened, somehow."

I noticed I hadn't had any wine in a while so I drained about half of my mug while I thought things over.

"Then I take it," I said slowly, "that the Merss family is associated with the, ah, the dark forces of the Art."

He nodded.

"Hmmm. And yet, they're still around."

"A few. They're stubborn."

I smiled. That pleased me.

"And," he added, "they mostly keep to themselves, and don't offend anyone."

"Just like me," I said dryly.

He either missed the irony, or chose to ignore it. "So then, Vlad, have I answered all of your questions?"

I laughed. "Sure. And generated a hundred more."

"That's how it usually works."

"The Count, how is he called?"

"My lord will do."

"No, no. His name."

"Oh. Veodric. His family name is Saekeresh."

"Thank you. Tell me, Zollie, what brings you here?"

"I was born here," he said.

"No, I mean, why are you at the inn, instead of at the manor with your Good Count Saekeresh Veodric?"

He laughed. "Good Count Veodric, aside from being a bad-tempered spoiled child who can speak of nothing but his aches and pains, is three and eighty years old," he said. "Once a year he leaves the manor to attend the Planting Festival, and once a year he leaves to judge at the horse show. This isn't either of those days, and the company here is better."

I looked around. "The horses?" He smiled and winked at me. "Oh," I said. "Expecting someone?"

"Sooner or later," he said.

"Then I'll leave you with the wine and my thanks."

"It has been a pleasure, Merss Vlad. I trust I'll see you again."

"I hope so," I told him. "I'll have more questions after I've thought things over."

"And more wine, I trust."

"And more wine."

It had gotten late while we spoke, and there seemed to be little sound coming from the inn. I made my way back across the small village, Loiosh and Rocza keeping close watch, because I was suddenly nervous. Nevertheless, nothing happened; I made it back and was let in to the Pointy Hat by the host, Inchay, who gave me a sour look (the place was empty; I guess he'd been about to retire).

"Well, that was useful, eh, Boss?"

"What are you being sarcastic about now? It was useful."

"How? He said everything he told you might be made up!"

"True or not, there are many who believe it."

"Oh, well, everything's solved then."

"He also said there's truth behind it, somewhere."

"Good luck finding it."

"Oh, shut up. I'm tired."

Some pleasures never get old, and taking off your boots at the end of a long day is one of those. I took off my cloak and outer layer of clothing, remembered to close the shutters, and stretched out on the bed. I was pleased that I hadn't had cause to regret leaving my sword here, and I decided not to do that ever again.

"Well, Boss, I hope it's progress. I'd like to be done and out of here."

"This town makes you nervous, does it?"

"What, it doesn't make you nervous?"

"Yeah, I guess it does at that. Good night."