Part 9 (1/2)
”I'll eat when you're finished.”
She stared at him for a long time. ”Can I at least say thank you?”
”No.”
”Oh.”
”Look, if your Oma is watching from Mandaros' Halls, she can d.a.m.n well wait with the lectures.”
Dark brows rose.
”I'm tired,” he added. ”And I'm not about to apologize for that in my own home.”
”Have you left at all?”
”None of your business.”
She ate a bit of the fruit, and her eyes widened again. He said nothing, watching her. Something too close to relief threatened to overwhelm him. Losing battle.
She ate for a while in silence, as if eating was new and fascinating. But silence, with children, rarely lasted. ”What do you do?” she asked.
”You don't have any more questions.”
Because she was ten, she nodded.
”But I happen to have a lot of them, and I want you to be healthy enough to answer.”
Healthy enough was another two days in coming. Rath went out to market at the end of the second day; it was a longer walk, and he had to admit that the squalor of the thirty-fifth was worse than he'd remembered. Then again, he'd never actually lived in the thirty-fifth holding before; he wondered how long he would stay, now that he was there.
He stopped at Radell's shop.
Radell was alone; in the middle of the day, he often was. It was hard to imagine that he had enough custom to keep the storefront going, but the two pieces that Rath had brought would keep the shop open for some time.
Radell brightened when Rath walked through the door, and then sagged when he realized that Rath wasn't carrying anything of interest. ”I suppose you're here for the money?” He managed to make the question sound vaguely accusatory.
Rath nodded.
”You'll be back with something soon?”
”Not for another week or so. I'm following a lead,” Rath added.
”Good, good. No,” Radell told him, as he ducked beneath the desk and fished a key out of a strongbox that wasn't actually locked, ”I don't want to know anything about it.”
”Has the Patris returned?”
Radell shook his head, almost mournfully. ”He's a peculiar man,” he said, because there was no one to hear him, ”and a bit particular about things. But as you can see, his money's good.”
”Impressively good.”
Radell's eyes narrowed. ”You think it's too good?”
”Everything is,” Rath replied, with a bored shrug. ”When did he start visiting your establishment?”
”He's been a customer for about three years. Maybe longer, but he didn't buy much until three years ago. He's particularly interested in Old Weston artifacts and books.”
”And he knows enough not to be tempted by most of your antiques.” The emphasis on the word was not lost on Radell, but the younger man took no insult.
”Do you know where he lives?”
That, on the other hand, was coming close to a danger zone. ”Why?”
”I'm curious. I have no desire to deal with him directly,” Rath added. ”As you should well know, by now.”
”You deal with the Order of Knowledge.”
”From time to time, yes. When I think that what I've found won't be of interest to your regular clientele.”
”You should let me be the judge of that.”
Given his taste in signage, beard, and clothing, Rath had formed distinct opinions about Radell's judgment. He was politic as ever, and kept these to himself. He considered telling Radell about the fact that the Patris had had him followed; the idea that Radell had arranged it never crossed Rath's mind.
Because Radell truly did not want to know anything about Rath's business. It was better for all concerned that way; if an item went missing, and the magisterial guards chose to pay a visit-as they often could-Radell wanted to be able to truthfully trumpet his ignorance.
It was sound practice.
The magisterial guards were part of the Magisterium, and they served the Kings. If the situation warranted it-if the man or woman who had lost a treasured heirloom had enough political pull-the guards might show up with one of the judgment-born. Or one of the bard-born.
The judgment-born, golden-eyed all, were sons of their father, Mandaros, the G.o.d of judgment; they could not be lied to, and they could discern, if they were trained, elements of criminal activity. They could be trusted, however, to be exactly what they appeared to be; they could not be bribed to lie, one way or the other.
He numbered none of them among his friends, but he did not disdain or despise them; they did what they were born to do, no more and certainly no less.
The bard-born-any of the talent-born-were different. They could not be detected by the simple expedient of looking at and noting the color of their irises, and they owed their power to an accident of birth, rather than a remote deity. They therefore felt free to make those alliances that seemed to suit them, and they did so without the natural compulsion of an immortal parent's blood to guide or bind them.
The bard-born were, however, almost always a.s.sociated with one of the bardic colleges. In Averalaan, Senniel was that college, although many Morniel bards also ventured to the capital, to sing in its many courts, and tread in the shadow of lives of privilege.
The talent-born had more-and less-power than the G.o.d-born. One could not lie to the judgment-born, any more than one could live without drawing breath; one could lie to the bard-born, with enough training or experience. The bard-born were sensitive to a man's voice. Rath, sensitive as well, but in a different fas.h.i.+on.
On the other hand, Rath could not, at whim, use his voice as a tool of command; he could not use voice alone to give orders that must be obeyed. He could not sing in a way that could captivate a crowd of thousands; he could barely sing in a way that didn't instantly sour wine-mellowed men.
Radell, a nervous little weasel of a man, albeit a fairly wealthy one, hadn't the control to hide behind words. Luckily, he hadn't the ego to deny the weakness; he avoided it, instead.
”Patris AMatie is not one of the mage-born, Radell?”
Radell shrugged. It was an uneasy shuffle of motion. ”How would I know? He doesn't wear the medallion,” he added.
”I noticed the lack.”
”Well, then. It's none of my business.”
”Unless he chooses to use magery to burn down your fine establishment.”