The Eyes of a Doll (The World of Shijuren Book 2) (27 page)

“Yes, Gabrijela, I do.” I smiled. “At least I know he doesn’t want to kill me. He may not save me, but he doesn’t want to kill me. That’s something in this insane place.”

“Readers.”

I nodded. “Infuriating.”

My own exhaustion suddenly demanded attention. I sat down on the cobblestones, leaning against the most convenient limestone wall. Gabrijela curled up next to me and gingerly leaned in under my left arm. I kept holding the scrap of my tunic against my wounds.

After I settled and the pain and fatigue subsided, I finally could analyze the fight in my mind.

“Your warning gave us a chance.”

“I felt the anger and rage.”

“Making us all frightened helped too.”

“Anger and rage are fairly easy to turn into fear.”

I nodded. I took a good look at the street around us. Gabrijela fell asleep as I did so.

The extraordinary woman—Isidora, I presumed—returned. She had black, curly hair turning to white that stuck out in all directions. A bright pink headband kept most of it out of her face, but did little to control the rest of it. Purple cosmetics highlighted her eyes and red filled out her cheeks. Those eyes never stayed in one place, flicking about relentlessly, drawn not necessarily by movement, but rather the need to look at something new constantly.

Her clothes were just as colorful. Green cloth patterned with yellow marks provided the base for her dress, but she had adorned it with at least three types of trim, all of which clashed with the green fabric. The patterns on the trim were worse, as no one garment should be decorated with meanders, triangles, circles, acanthus leaves, and dragons.

Her building was painted predominantly red, but streaked with yellow. Purple and blue monsters fought each other, their claws exaggerated and sharp. Stars and crescent moons and other shapes danced boldly amongst the monsters.

She had moved a table and two chairs before her building. The table was covered in a soft cloth even more garishly painted than her building, interwoven reds and yellows and oranges and colors I could not name competed for attention.

While her eyes flicked about, her hands flicked as well, shuffling and re-shuffling a deck of cards with the dexterity of decades. Bedarth had taught me some used cards to foretell the future. I had scoffed at the idea, but Bedarth had given me one of his pet phrases followed by another lesson.

“And you know everything now?”

“But how could anyone foretell the future?”

“What is Lore magic but an attempt to control potential futures? How can you control futures without being able, in some way, to predict the possibilities?”

“Oh.”

“Every one of us that uses magic does so in our own way. I can easily conceive of such cards serving as a tool for a clikurios.”

I shook my head caught Isidora’s eye. I nodded my thanks. She grinned happily and shuffled more insistently.

My back was starting to ache from the stone pressing into it. I sadly realized I was going to have to let Gabrijela go, but as I started to move she burrowed tighter into my shoulder.

I sighed and accepted my discomfort as fair recompense for her closeness.

A group of people rushing up from the Stracara finally roused us. At first I had no idea who they were, so I wearily started to stand ready to defend us all. Fortunately, Isidora met them in the road and marshalled these new forces with loud instructions before I disturbed Gabrijela.

“David, have your brothers get my wagon from behind my house. You go get your dad’s mule. Take these bodies to the warehouse. You know the one.

“Jadran, you and Boza take the pails from my entryway and get water to clean this street. I’ll not have flies eating their fill and darkening my door. Iva, you go with them. Take the waterskins next to the pails and get fresh drinking water for these two from the lake well. Violeta, come with me.”

There was a pause as nobody moved, and then Isidora raised one eyebrow.

“Or do I need to ask your parents to help?”

They exploded in a frenzy of movement. Isidora and Violeta disappeared into the house.

Gabrijela sat up as Isidora issued her commands. Ruefully, we both clambered to our feet, Gabrijela assisting me as I shook out the stiffness. We watched bemusedly as Jadran jogged up with a mule and led it behind Isidora’s house. Soon, two youngsters led a freshly hitched wagon out to the road and tossed the bodies into it. Two more started mopping up the blood.

I shook my head.

“Zvono is going to kill me.”

“This is not Imperial business. Gibroz will handle this.”

“You may think so. Gibroz may think so. Zvono will still be upset at me.”

With a steely voice, she replied with certainty. “Be that as it may, Gibroz will not sit quietly while his people are threatened. And you were not so concerned two days ago.”

“Two days ago I hoped to avoid their involvement to keep my disguise. Now, I want their help.”

“You shouldn’t have summoned them.”

“The disguise isn’t working. When Sebastijan gets here with Deor and my armor and weapons, I’m going to use them. I don’t care if they’re different and distinctive here, this has gone too far. There are too many bodies now, and I’m not going to lose another. No more Desimirs. No more Radovans.”

“You’ll be a constant target. They won’t send six or eight or ten. They’ll send a score or more. For all you know, they could literally send the Imperial Army after you.”

“Then we’ll kill them.”

She shook her head angrily. “You fool. You think you can kill an entire organization? You think there’s no limit of men you can kill and still live? They had but six and they managed to cut you twice on your ribs. Had those cuts struck an inch differently, we’d both be dead.”

“That’s my point. I’m not invulnerable in my armor, but it will take more than eight of the likes of those to threaten me when I’m wearing it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” she shouted.

Violeta interrupted our argument with a bundle of blankets, rags, and bandages. We arranged Radovan as best we could, and Violeta began wiping off his wounds. Iva returned, handed me one of two waterskins, and then joined Violeta. Together they cleaned and bandaged the wound quickly.

Isidora returned, carrying a basket of leavened bread. It had flecks of onion cooked into it, and I suspect I would have found it delicious had I not been so frustrated. However, I mechanically ate three pieces, washed down by the lakewater.

When I had eaten, Iva and Violeta cleaned my rib wounds and bandaged them.

The street was now cleaned and clear except for us.

“Come.”

I looked at Isidora, who had returned to her table.

“Come,” she repeated. She shuffled her cards and motioned to the chair across from her.

I shrugged. I might as well ask the questions I had come to ask. I sat down.

“Shall Isidora foretell your future?”

“I’d rather have some questions answered about the present.”

She smiled broadly. “That is what Isidora is here for. She answers questions, some about then, some about now, some about later. What can you pay her?”

“What do you charge?”

“That is not what Isidora asked you. What can you pay her?”

“Will you tell me the truth?”

“Isidora will tell you exactly what she sees and knows. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“And if what you see and know is false?”

“Then what Isidora tells you is false.”

She continued shuffling her cards. I laid ten silver dinars before her. A fortune in the Stracara, but I owed her for the help.

She nodded and swiftly slid them into a pocket hidden in her voluminous clothes.

“Then let us see what that tells us.”

She shuffled her cards and laid them out delicately. “You have a mighty enemy.”

“I knew that already.”

“Mightier than Isidora thinks you know.”

“How do I find him or her?”

“That Isidora cannot tell you, but she can say that castles are only built to defend important positions.”

My training with Bedarth paid fruit then, as I actually understood what she meant. “They would not be attacking me if I were following a path that led to nowhere.”

“And now you come to Isidora to find more answers.”

“Yes. I came to ask how you worked with Ognyan. I want to confirm he’s not cheating Gibroz.”

“Do you think Ognyan might be a mighty enemy?”

“I don’t know. My master said to question everything.”

“A wise man.”

I nodded.

“You should continue to question. Question everything, for Isidora’s cards suggest your answers have been hidden for decades.”

“How can that be? I have only been in the Empire for two months.”

“Isidora told you she would tell you what she sees and knows. She simply tells you what the cards show is true. Isidora does not know why or how this is true.”

“Gibroz would never allow someone to cheat him for decades.”

“Maybe that is not the answer you’re seeking.”

“It is why I’m here.”

“Isidora knows of no one who is cheating Gibroz. Perhaps you should ask better questions.”

“What questions should I ask?”

She shrugged and moved her hand before her, arranging the cards so quickly I could barely keep up. She laid one before me, face down.

“This, Sevener, is your answer. Isidora cannot give you the question.”

I flipped the card over.

“Ah. The Master. He is your answer.”

“Bedarth?”

“Isidora can only tell you what she knows.”

I sighed. “I’ll consider what Bedarth would tell me. I would have anyway.”

“Then that seems wise.”

“One last thing. Ognyan said he gives the money to you, Sava, Markov, and occasionally Jeremena.”

“Yes.”

“You tell him which to pay?”

She nodded.

“How do you find out?”

“Gibroz tells Isidora.”

She grinned slyly and her demeanor changed. She looked directly at me without her mirthful eyes flicking away.

“I would have thought that would be obvious.”

I chuckled. “Look and look again.”

She smiled and shifted back to her fortune-teller pose. “Yes.”

“And then you tell Ognyan.”

“Yes.”

“What happens then?”

“Why, he pays who Isidora tells him.”

“Has he ever not?”

“No, and we do keep track.”

“Then who gets the money?”

“We give what we have to Markov, who records it in his ledger.”

“Markov keeps a ledger?”

“He is quite meticulous about Gibroz’s money.”

“I would not have thought that of him.”

“He does look rather stupid, does he not?”

I nodded and rose from my chair. She looked up to me.

“Perhaps you will learn the questions you need to ask him.”

“Perhaps, though I have no great hope he’ll answer.”

“Isidora believes that you too can see the future.”

I chuckled and returned to Gabrijela.

“Quite mad, as I said.”

“Indeed.”

“How much did you lose to her?”

“Ten silver dinars.”

Gabrijela’s eyes opened wide with delight.

“Oh, my dear, you are a spendthrift fool.”

“Consider it my tithe to replace a batty old woman’s blankets.”

Radovan let out a pained gasp and my humor disappeared. I did not want to have to tell Jovanka. Maybe if I had Anastasius nearby to heal the wounds her knives would carve into me.

I looked up the street at another clatter of footsteps. Zvono, Piri, and another man I recognized as one of Sebastijan’s thugs followed the boy Gabrijela had sent. A squad of Pathfinders guarded them.

Piri looked at me.

“I don’t like the hair. Nor the beard”

“Me neither. I am anxious to shave it off.”

“It apparently didn’t help.”

I shook my head and Zvono glared at me.

“I thought you were gone.”

“I was. I came back.”

“And brought more paperwork.”

“Maybe not. Gibroz seems to have cleaned up everything. You could let him handle it.”

“I’ll ask Kapric if that’s how he wants us to do our jobs. Want to guess what his answer will be?”

“No.”

“But you let them take the bodies and clean the street anyway. You know that makes my job incredibly difficult.”

“Yes, I do. I could not stop them.”

“I’m starting to think Kapric might be right about you.”

Piri started laughing.