Rosemary Kirstein - Steerswoman 04 (34 page)

Because every face in the room was speaking to Rowan silently,
saying: Go.

Even the faces known to her. Even those who knew her to be
the steerswoman Jannik sought. Especially those.

Bel’s dark gaze, saying: Go; Willam’s copper eyes, half blind
with concentration, as part of him continued, under his breath, to count, and
the rest of him pleaded with her to leave.

And more:

Marel, seated near the door, urging her to take this chance;
the two serving girls, wanting Rowan to do it; the head cook, frightened on her
behalf.

And at the front of the crowd, at its very edge: Reeder,
stripped of his arrogance and posturing, his pale green eyes unmasked, showing
her what she needed to understand this:

Hope; desperate hope.

What
do you think it would take, to stand against a
wizard?
Bel had asked him; Who
among the common folk, could ever do such
a thing?

The steerswoman had to live.

The boy tugged at her hand again. Rowan allowed the woman
and the child to lead her.

They could not use the street door without bringing the boy
close to Naio’s corpse. They went toward the main staircase.

They were at its foot when Jannik spoke. “Wait.” Rowan and
the woman stopped, the boy looking up at them in annoyance. “I think only one
of you needs to go,” the wizard said.

The head groom stood with her eyes squeezed shut; and then,
with careful deliberation, she let go of the boy’s hand.

Rowan felt an emotion that she was utterly incapable of
putting into words. She prepared to climb the stairs.

But the boy had finally caught the full force of the
tension, and the fear, that filled the room behind them. Uncomprehending, and
suddenly desperate, he flung himself against the head groom’s knees, clutched
them with one hand, buried his face against her trouser legs, whining: “Grammeee!”

The two women exchanged a long glance. Then the steerswoman
released the boy’s hand, stepped away; and the people watched as his
grandmother led him up the long staircase, and out of sight.

Rowan carefully composed her emotions, and her expression,
and turned back to watch the wizard.

She would live to see him fall. She swore this to herself,
and promised it to the people of Donner.

“Now,” Jannik said, “our next step is quite obvious. In
order to focus my attentions on Olin’s direct attack against my protection
against the dragons, I need this spying, this subterfuge, to cease. I want
Olin’s agent. I want the false steerswoman. I will deal with her”—here he
glanced once at Naio’s corpse, where Ona still knelt, her face buried against
her husband’s chest—“in my own way. Whoever among you knows where she is,
speak.”

Someone spoke, immediately. “I’ve seen her,” Ruffo said. Jannik
smiled a broad smile. “There, you see? How simple. Ruffo, where is she?”

“She rode out,” the innkeeper said. “Yesterday morning.”

“Rode out?” Jannik’s brows knit. “To where?”

“Well, I don’t know that. Just riding around, for pleasure
was what I heard …”

“Now, that’s almost certainly not true,” Jannik said,
speaking as if to a child. “It was a ruse. Did you see what direction she
went?”

“No, just out of the yard. On one of my best hire-horses,
too, and for free, and if she’s as false as you say, she won’t be bringing it
back, I’ll bet, and who’s going to pay for that?”

The wizard lost his smile. “I do hope that you’re not actually
looking to me for remuneration?”

Ruffo’s bravado faltered, and he sputtered: “No, no, sir, I
meant nothing by it—”

“He’s just rattling on,” Joly said to Jannik calmly. “He
does that; it’s just his way.”

“Of course. Everyone knows how Ruffo rambles.” Jannik
scanned the crowd. “Who else saw her go?”

No one replied, but one of the serving girls began to
jitter. The other punched her in the arm to settle her.

Jannik did not fail to notice, and fixed the pair with a
sharp eye. “Yes?”

The jittering girl was beyond speech. Her companion screwed
up her own courage. “We seen them go. We was helping out Sherrie, cleaning one
of the back suites upstairs. Watched from a window. Out of the yard and north
on Branner’s Road, they went.”

This interested the wizard. “ They’? Someone was with her?”
The girl blinked, but could not deny it now. “That’s so. Some fellow with her.
No one I know.”

“What did he look like?”

And the girl looked the wizard straight in the eye and said:
“Small. Dark. Pretty little thing he was, too. I think she picked him up in one
of the fun-houses.”

The wizard spread his hands and addressed the crowd at
large. “Now, there, do you see? Is that proper behavior for a real steerswoman?
Consorting with a prostitute?”

“I guess a steerswoman needs her fun, the same as anyone
else,” Oregon said.

This inspired a glare from the wizard. “And have you seen
her?”

“No.”

Jannik was suspicious, but let it pass. “Who else?”

Someone stirred uncertainly at a back table toward the right
of the room. The wizard said nothing, but tilted his head, eyes narrowed.

A middle-aged gentleman, well dressed, and a complete stranger
to Rowan, rose formally and cleared his throat. “I saw them pass by my
establishment, early yesterday morning. West, on Iron-and-Tin Street.”

“Hm. And this, small, dark man … I don’t suppose he is an
employee at your own, ah, ‘establishment’?”

“No,” spoken definitely, “he was not.” A moment’s thought;
Rowan was impressed by the man’s composure. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to
claim to be. He came to me, two days ago, looking for work. I turned him down.
The way he said it, that he’d do anything at all for money: it made me feel
that he might be an altogether unsavory sort. I run a wholesome house, sir.”

“‘Anything at all for money,’” the wizard mused. “I find that
interesting. Very likely this minion of Olin lured him to work with her,
promising some reward. I wonder if he survived the experience?”

Jannik waved the bawdy-house owner back to his seat, and
turned away. “They were seen to leave; has anyone seen them return?”

There was no reply.

“The timing does fit … ,” Jannik said. “It was yesterday
that the one dragon did escape, briefly. A very close call, it was, too. We
were lucky. But I do wonder. I wonder about all those questions she was asking
…” He paused; seemed to come back to himself; and, regarding the crowd, he
sighed a sad and patient sigh. “Now, do you see? These people are working, not
just against me, but against all of us.” Abruptly and inexplicably, he looked
up at the ceiling. A number of people in the crowd, Rowan included, could not
help but do the same. “Hm,” the wizard said, with apparent satisfaction.
“Well.” He addressed the people again. “I have no more time to waste here. I do
need to go to the dragon fields, immediately, to try to rectify the damage, and
restore the protective spells. And”—he glanced upward again, gave a small
smile—“I need to get there rather more quickly than the usual means will provide.”

Rowan felt a vibration in the pit of her stomach, like a
note too deep to be heard, but loud enough to be sensed. She noticed a discomfort
among the people; some of them looked about, perplexed.

Across the room, Willam, still counting, was looking at the
ceiling.

“So,” Jannik continued, and began to stroll across the hearthside
again, “I’ll be taking my leave, shortly, for a period.”

Rowan’s ears were ringing—no; the sound was outside her
head. Like the highest notes of a demon-voice …

The people stirred, uneasy, as the noise increased. In the center
of the room, Bel froze in the perfect motionlessness required in the presence
of a demon; but it was no demon-voice.

Jannik spoke, now needing to raise his voice. “If the
so-called steerswoman returns to Donner, whoever sees her will inform the city
guard.” Outside, a sudden rush of wild wind spun dust into the open street
windows. “And the city guard”—Jannik turned to the mayor, spoke above the
noise—“will hold her until my return.”

Willam had transferred his gaze to the street door. Rowan
did the same; and an instant later, it blew open, slamming against the wall,
admitting furious wind. Door and windows spilled hard, white light into the
room.

People cried out, shielded their eyes against dust and brightness.
Some rose, tried to flee back from it. The wizard commanded:
“Stay where you
are!”
The people froze; only Ona moved. Her face blank with her pain, she
raised her head and stared blindly into the whiteness and the wind.

The light from the door dimmed. The noise subsided. The wind
died. The dust began to settle.

Jannik smiled. “My transportation has arrived.” And the
stunned crowd, in scattered movements, slowly turned back toward the small,
round, white-haired man. “I’ll be leaving now—but I want you to remember
something …”

He took a more formal pose, and his gaze moved across every
person in the room. “I am your protector. I am the only thing that stands
between this city and the dragons, and between this city and Olin’s evil
tricks. If you involve yourself in matters of magic, you set yourself against
me.

“If you cannot behave correctly out of loyalty to the city,
and gratitude toward me”—he paused; his blue eyes were hard, bright,
sharp—“then do it out of fear.”

He walked again, slowly, along the edge of the crowd, look—

ing into each individual face as he passed. “Naio was
working against me.” The woman before him leaned back in fear. “It does not
matter if he intended to or not.” Another step, another face, an elderly man
who trembled visibly. “Anyone meddling in the matters of wizards is my enemy.”
He had reached the end of the room; he doubled back. “I’ve shown you the
results of meddling.” A young woman covered her face as he walked by, then
buried it against the shoulder of the older woman beside her. “I hope you never
have to see such a thing again.”

At the center, he paused before Reeder, who stared with
open, unblinking hatred, and Bel, standing calmly beside him. “You should
remember,” Jannik told the people, “what this extremely intelligent woman told
you.” He passed on. “And you should remember what you’ve seen here tonight.

“Naio,” he said, and now his eyes were on Rowan, and she
fought to keep her hatred from showing, “was an example.” He moved to the next
person. “I don’t like having to make examples—” He moved on. “But I will if I
must.” He had reached the left edge of the crowd, chose a single face, a burly
man ashen with fear. The wizard stepped close, looked up, addressed the man
quietly but clearly. “As often as is necessary.”

Jannik turned back. “And do not expect me to be so
selective, so fair and just, the next time. I frankly cannot be bothered. I
will make an example of anyone I choose, any time I choose, merely to
make
you understand!”

He moved his gaze across the entire crowd, slowly. “Anyone,”
he said again. Then he looked left.

“You, for instance,” he said to Rowan. “You’ve been entirely
too calm through all of this.” He laid his hand on her chest. “You’re dead.”

Gray …

Gray again, and shadows …

Gray, and shadows, and a roar like water, like the Dolphin
Stair …

Gray again, and shadows, moving

Rowan breathed in.

Light and dark spattered across her vision. The breath she
had taken escaped …

Rowan breathed in.

Bel: weirdly shallow looking, two-dimensional, too bright.
Her lips were moving.

Rowan exhaled, all at once, too quickly, leaving her so
empty that at once she breathed in, just as quickly, and colors faded, and
grayed …

Hands on her, a dizzying movement; then she was sitting up.
The roar of water, and behind it, the humming voices of a hundred demons.

Bel’s face, close, and Rowan was being shaken by the shoulders.
She lost Bel’s face, found it again.

Beside Bel, someone. A stranger.

No: copper eyes. Willam. He seemed surprised. How odd …
There was something she ought to do. She could not recall what it was.

Gray rose again …

Bel shook her, violently, shouted in her face, her voice
tiny, distant:
“Breathe!”

Rowan breathed in.

She kept breathing in, one continuous inhale; she wished
that her body, the whole of it, was entirely hollow; that she might continue to
breathe in, endlessly, to fill every corner of herself with air.

When she could fit no more, it all went out again, by
itself. She missed it; she was empty.

It took her a moment to know what to do.

She breathed.

Willam was gone …

Bel said something. Rowan heard, but could not match words
to sounds. Rowan looked at her, utterly uncomprehending; but from somewhere,
she heard, quite clearly, Willam’s voice, calling out urgently and
inexplicably:
“Where are the sailors?”

Abruptly, colors paled, and Rowan struggled weakly, for no
reason she could identify.

Bel shook her again. “Breathe,” the Outskirter told her;
Rowan breathed.

She concentrated on breathing, in, out. It took all her will
and intelligence to continue to breathe.

Bel turned, spoke to someone behind her. The person
departed.

There were many faces, all around and above. Rowan was sitting
on the floor.

“How do you feel?” Bel asked her. The steerswoman was dimly
surprised that the words now made sense. But it took her time, several long
breaths, to gather enough reason in herself to find the answer, and more to
find the words to state the answer.

“My feet hurt.” As if some cruel person were twisting both
her ankles, and jabbing a knife into her heel.

“Wait.” Bel turned away; the pain in Rowan’s ankles vanished,
and she suddenly found herself in control of her own legs. She drew up her
knees. Her heel still hurt.