“Perhaps you didn’t notice that the man you took issue with considers himself a nobleman.”
Interesting phrasing. “Perhaps you hadn’t heard that the lady he accosted was a Daughter of the Pale Mother,” Justin countered.
“Oh, I’m absolutely certain you did the right thing by protecting one of the Silver Lady’s own. Wish I’d been there myself to earn a little credit with the goddess. I’ m just telling you that your overeager suitor came to me to complain about bad behavior from strangers on the street. I told him I’d look into it.”
“And why would you be the one he complained to?”
Faeber resettled his weight. “I’m magistrate of the town. We have a small civil guard in Neft, and they answer to me. But there always seems to be something else that folks think I should be responsible for. So now I collect taxes for the king. I mediate disputes between merchants. I officiate at weddings. I say a few words at funerals. Kind of have my fingers in a whole lot of different pies.”
“So some idiot who’s probably not even Thirteenth House thinks he can behave like a ruffian and then complains to you when somebody stops him,” Justin said.
“That’s right. I told him I’d find you and take care of everything.”
Justin lifted his eyes to give Faeber one unfriendly stare. “And how do you intend to take care of me?” he asked in a level voice.
Faeber’s face split in a grin. “Why, buy you a drink, of course! I’ve wanted to punch that boy in the face many times these past three years. Assaulting women in the streets.
My
streets. And then whining when a good man steps in to stop him!”
Justin laughed. “You hardly know I’m a good man. Can’t judge by just one thing.”
“You don’t cheat at cards,” Faeber observed. “So that’s two things.”
“Well, I’d appreciate the drink, in any case.”
Faeber called over the waitress, an older woman who was plain and efficient, and they sipped a couple of glasses of ale, idly talking. Well, the conversation appeared to be idle. Justin was well aware that Faeber was still trying to gauge what kind of man he was, while Justin was engaged in his own complicated game, trying to appear honest and harmless, if a little malcontented.
“So how long do you plan to stay in Neft?” Faeber asked as they finished their drinks.
Justin shrugged. “Till I figure out something different to do.”
“Heard you had a little trouble up Storian way. Or was it Danalustrous?”
Justin didn’t know the Twelve Houses well enough to know whether Storian boasted daughters of the age to be forming disastrous liaisons with soldiers, but he was ready to bet Faeber did. Just his luck, Justin knew plenty about the serramarra of that other House. And Kirra would be only too happy to pretend she’d had a relationship with him, if he was ever required to produce proof.
“Danalustrous,” he said shortly.
“I hear marlord Malcolm has two daughters, both of them beautiful. One’s a dark-haired thing, one’s fair.”
“That’s right.”
Faeber took the last sip of his beer. “That yellow-haired girl, they say she’s a mystic. A shiftling.”
Justin’s hands stilled on his glass. “She is.”
Faeber shook his head. “People around these parts, they don’t care much for mystics. Well, let me put it more plainly, son. If that girl were ever to think of coming to visit you here? Anybody who knew about it would want to stone her in the street.”
Justin refrained from retorting that anyone who tried to harm Kirra would find himself slashed to ribbons by a great golden cat—or whatever shape Kirra chose to take at that moment— and would undoubtedly be further mauled by Donnal, who was never far from her side. He also had to discard the idea of saying she was unlikely to come visiting him here, because it was
exactly
the sort of thing Kirra might do—show up unannounced and start looking for entertainment. Instead he leaned back in his chair and coolly inspected the other man. “I’d think the magistrate of a town would have something to say about that,” he said softly.
Faeber’s mouth twisted. “You would think that,” he said. “It was truer before the Lestra’s men started running tame in Neft. I’ve broken up a mob or two in my time, but I’ve found it’s easier to warn people off. The Lestra’s made it plain that she abhors mystics, and what the Lestra does, people around here are like to take up. So I’d just as soon turn mystics back at the city limits. Let ’em find someplace else to go, and not bring their magic here.”
Justin pushed his empty glass back and forth on the table. “So you don’t despise mystics yourself?” he said.
Faeber’s keen eyes grew keener. “Didn’t exactly say that.”
Justin shrugged. “You don’t know me. You don’t know where I stand. But I can tell you now that I’m not wearing a moonstone, and I wouldn’t lift a rock to throw at any man just because he was different than me.”
“Might draw your sword to defend someone, maybe, if you saw anybody else throwing those rocks?”
Justin shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You might not be saying that out loud to too many folks here.”
“Well, I haven’t bothered to have that many conversations,” Justin drawled.
Faeber let loose a crack of laughter. “You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” he said, but his tone was somewhat admiring. “I don’t quite have you figured out.”
“In an hour? I wouldn’t think so.”
Faeber placed his hands on the table, as if getting ready to push himself out of the chair. “You’d be surprised how many men you can read in five minutes,” he said. “But I know enough about you now, I believe.”
Justin looked inquiring. “What do you think you know?”
Faeber hauled himself up, but stood there a moment gazing down at Justin. The look on the magistrate’s face was considering. “You’re a dangerous young man,” he said abruptly. “But you’re not looking for trouble. At the moment. I imagine that when you do, you can be fairly destructive.”
Justin gave him one long, sober look. “All I did was take on one bully in the street. I’m not trying to make a name. I just want to settle in and lead a quiet life.”
Faeber nodded. “See that you behave yourself then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
SO there had been at least one unfortunate consequence of coming to Ellynor’s aid: Justin had drawn the attention of the local magistrate, who was likely to keep watching him. But even that might not be so problematic, if Justin had read Faeber as correctly as Faeber had read him. The older man wasn’t pleased by having his town overrun with convent soldiers, though he probably didn’t waste his energy trying to control them. And he didn’t hate mystics. He hadn’t said so outright, but he hadn’t burst out with the virulent rhetoric Justin would have expected if Faeber was a true believer. So that was something to keep in mind. If he ever had need of an ally, Faeber might be one. Particularly if Justin asked for help as a King’s Rider. He thought he was likely to get a great deal of assistance then.
And even if he’d guessed wrong—even if Faeber was at this very moment telling his own men to pay special attention to this sullen new arrival, to watch him night and day—he couldn’t be sorry he’d interfered this afternoon. Not if it meant he’d saved Ellynor’s life.
There was still the matter of how to get enough free time to take a closer look at the convent, which Justin judged to be about a four-hour ride away. He wasn’t sure Delz would be moved to give him a couple days off merely because Justin announced he had “business” to attend to. He was in luck, though. Three days later, Delz’s nephew arrived for a brief stay, and Delz himself came sidling over to Justin.
“It’s my sister’s boy, and I’ve promised him some work,” the stablemaster said. “Now, I’m not saying there’s not enough here for three sets of hands to do, and I’ll certainly pay you your share while he’s here, but if you were wanting to take off a couple days, well, this would be the time to do it.”
Justin scowled. “You said you had work for me. You didn’t mention that it would dry up every other week.”
“No, no, the boy’s only been here one other time in the past six months! Feel free to stay! I’ll set him to mending tack and fixing the back stall where it’s been kicked out. I just thought if you were looking for an opportunity—”
Justin hunched a shoulder. “I’ve got things to attend to, as it happens,” he said ungraciously. “I’ll take a day or two and go about my own matters. And maybe sometime when it’s convenient for
me
to take time off, you’ll remember how obliging I was now.”
“Yes, excellent, we’ll work this out,” Delz promised, looking relieved. “I’ll tell my nephew he’ll earn full wages tomorrow.”
That afternoon, Justin loaded up provisions and headed out, taking the northern road in case anyone happened to be watching him. Once well outside the city limits, he cut sharply southeast, following back roads and overgrown trails till he entered the forest surrounding the convent.
By this time, it was dark, and he proceeded with caution, staying well off the main trails that wound through the woods. He wished he had Donnal with him to take animal shape and sift the night air for any signs of danger.
He wished Kirra was here, to turn Justin himself into a wild beast. Such an act was forbidden, but she had done it anyway,twice, and each time Justin had found himself exhilarated by the experience. Now he often found himself wondering what it would be like to be a bird, a fox, a snake. Next time he saw Kirra, he would ask.
Nonetheless, his human stealth was good enough to bring him unobserved to the edge of the clearing holding the great convent. Still behind a scrim of trees, Justin observed the huge building, white and imposing even by starlight. It lay at the heart of a fenced compound so big that it also contained guards’ barracks, stables, small gardens—what was in essence a self-contained community.
At every window, in all five stories, a single candle burned, giving the place a look of appealing warmth and welcome. Justin was close enough to see shapes patrolling the top edge of the thick walls—close enough to catch what sounded like women’s voices raised in song. What kind of people would be outside at midnight, singing? Justin supposed they were novices engaged in some convent ritual. The voices were sweet, ethereal, impossible to understand from this distance. Still, they had a sort of mesmerizing effect, making Justin want to push through the tree limbs, run up to the wall, and vault to the top, so he could look into the upturned faces of the girls who must be gathered in the courtyard.
He wondered if Ellynor was one of the singers. The thought made him even more desirous of getting a closer look.
He stayed where he was.
In about twenty minutes, the singing stopped. Now the night air carried fainter sounds back to him, light laughter, muted voices, the echo of a door pulling shut. The guards walking the high perimeter conferred as they passed each other, but there was no other movement, no other noise, from within the walls.
Soon, he thought, everyone would be asleep for the night.
Justin scouted the terrain a little more closely, decided he was better off above the sight line. He retreated a dozen yards to secure his horse even farther back—close enough to retrieve quickly, not close enough to be seen from the road— and returned to his first vantage point to climb a sturdy tree. Tayse had been pretty certain the convent boasted only one entrance big enough to allow a contingent of men and horses through. If Coralinda Gisseltess was planning to send her men out on a raid, they would leave through that exit.