House of Shadows(22)

The thief who had cursed before uttered another, more vehement oath. Then he turned and walked away. He didn’t run, but he was moving briskly.

“Now, look,” began the thug’s leader, but Benne only continued to stride forward, and in another instant the remaining thieves gave way and followed their fellow into the shadows.

Ahead of them, a streetlamp cast its greenish light over Taudde’s rented house, now just visible in the palely lit mist. Taudde followed Benne toward the house without uttering a word. He was seldom rendered speechless. But the cumulative effect of this evening had managed it.

The house stood in the heart of Lonne, less than a mile from Miennes’s own graceful townhouse, if in a rather less exclusive district. Its rent was high, but nothing less would do for the wealthy man, son of wealthy merchants, whom Taudde was pretending to be. Had he instead presented himself as an ordinary man, even a poor one, would Miennes ever have noticed him? No way of knowing, without finding out how he’d given himself away in the first place. But it still seemed more likely the mage who had discovered him, and against that the trappings of disguise probably made little difference. At least he hadn’t had to endure any sort of privation during his stay in Lonne. Yet.

The townhouse was a tall, narrow, sheer-walled structure, with no windows on the first floor and bars on those of the second floor: measures that would protect the house’s inhabitants from the simpler sort of thief or thug. Taudde appreciated this design consideration far more now than he had previously. Though the house owned nothing at all, of course, to guard against the sort of thug who lived in a great stone mansion and gracefully served the very best wines to go with his delicate threats.

The lowest floor held the servants’ quarters. Taudde took the angular stair that crooked around a corner of the house and led to an entrance directly on the second floor, beckoning Benne to follow. The long brass key he carried was stiff in the lock. Taudde could have unlocked the door almost as quickly without the key as with it, if he had dared use sorcery. But, of course, he did not.

The door opened into the sort of small reception hall these narrow city houses usually boasted: slate tile and polished wood, with a pattern of gray marble inlaid in the tiles in front of the door and a small marble-topped table standing to one side. The table held a graceful branch of willow in a tall vase. The willow branch was new. It was made of pewter, with slender leaves of beaten silver that stirred in the slight breeze created by Taudde’s entrance. Taudde looked at it for a moment, and then at Benne.

The man dropped his gaze, looking abashed. Now that they stood in this civilized entry hall, the bloody knife Benne still held seemed out of place in his huge hand.

Taudde took a deep breath. Another. Then he said, gesturing to the willow branch, his tone almost ordinary, “You bought this?”

Benne nodded.

“It lends a pleasing touch to the hall. Very suitable. I’m pleased by your efforts on behalf of this house. It was made by a Paliante craftsman, I suppose? Yes. And how much did he ask?”

Benne held up three fingers, and then two.

“And how much did you pay?”

The big man hesitated for an instant. Then he held up four fingers, and one.

“Yes,” said Taudde. He paused for a moment, and then added, “Good taste and judgment, good bargaining skills, good timing with a rescue, and truly amazing brawling talent. I hardly know what to say.”

Benne looked at the floor.

“Well,” Taudde added, “I do know one thing to say. Thank you.”

Benne glanced up for an instant, and then looked down again.

“Come along to the kitchen and wash that blood off,” Taudde said, and turned briskly to walk down the hall.

Nala was at the big kitchen table, sifting flour for the morning bread, Taudde saw.

She glanced up, smiled a reserved professional smile of welcome, glanced past him at Benne, took in the blood and the knife, and lost her smile. “What—are you—Is that—” She stopped, blinked, and finished more coherently. “Are you all right, lord? Benne?” Her gaze at Taudde was worried and nervous, but the look she gave Benne held something warmer than concern. “Whatever happened?”

Taudde said, in his blandest tone, “Oh, we’re perfectly all right, aren’t we, Benne? It was nothing of moment.”

Benne bobbed his head, looking abashed, and moved past Nala to drop the knife into the sink and rinse the blood off his hands.

Taudde headed for the stairs that led through the parlors and library on the third floor and finally to his own living quarters on the fourth. He stood at his high window and stared out at the dark city, but he found no peace in that quiet darkness. The chill air came into the room, pressing against the warmth of the fire Nala had laid in his fireplace.