the loss of your name as any great tragedy.”
His father shrugged. “You think I care?”
“What’s the secret? Why won’t you tell me about her?”
His father glared at him in silence.
“What was her relationship to Arbiter, now Pontifect, Fritillary Reedling?”
“Ah, so that’s it, is it?” He grinned, revealing several missing teeth. “Now you’re a cleric wearing your pretty medallion, you want to know how cosy you can get with the Pontifect on the top of the heap, eh?”
“Don’t bother to tell me lies.”
“Oh, I’ll not do that. She’d have my guts on her platter if I told you what I know.”
“She? Fritillary Reedling?”
“Bitch made me swear I’d never utter a word. Not to you, nor anyone else. And that’s the way it’s going to be. You don’t mess with the bull in the herd, and she’s the snorting bull in this case, for all that she lacks a pizzle. Forget it, Saker. You’re never going to find out about your dam from me.”
Fritillary
had forced his father’s silence, not the other way around? He stared, trying to decide who to believe.
Fritillary, of course. When was your da ever honest with you?
Before he could say anything, his father added, “Your ma left you, you know. Ran off and left you here with me. That’s how much she cared. And then word came she was dead.” He laughed.
Saker drew in a sharp breath. “Blister your lying tongue, Da. I don’t believe it!”
“Believe what you will, you ninny. She didn’t care enough to stay, or to take her mewling son with her. I didn’t want you, but she left you anyway.”
Just then, the door of the house opened and his stepmother came out, carrying a pail. She stopped dead when she saw him. “My, the brat is back again. What the hog’s piddle do
you
want?” She put down the pail, placed her hands on her hips and thrust her chin out in his direction.
Va-less damn,
he thought.
They
have
come down in the world
. There’d been a time when she would never have lugged a pail. They’d had servants to do that.
“Naught to do with you,” his father said to her. “Go back in the house and mind your hearth.”
For a moment, Saker thought she might defy her husband, but in the end she shrugged and went inside. His father turned to him, saying, “Get going, you botch of nature. Clear out, and don’t come here again. You’ll learn naught from me. You want the truth, go talk to that Pontifect of yours. She’s the one who knows and she’s the one who’ll feed me to the pigs if I utter a word she don’t approve of.” With that remark, he stomped away across the yard.
Saker hesitated, wondering if there was anything else he could say that would make a difference. In the end he decided there wasn’t. His mother wouldn’t have left him. His father was lying, of course he was.
On his way back to the village road, he crossed the stone bridge over the stream where he’d learned to swim. The rushes still grew along the bank and the ducks still dabbled there. He led his horse down to drink, his mind drifting back to his boyhood. His favourite game had been to hide under the water, breathing through a hollow rush stalk, until his young half-brothers had been scared out of their wits thinking him dead.
… the corpse and the bit o’ wood bobbing alongside…
Not
floating
, flat on top of the water, but bobbing, like a floating bottle. He stood still, mouth falling open.
Sweet Va, that bloody lascar
.
Bambu was hollow. Ardhi was no more drowned than he himself had been as a boy.
7
A Witan at Court
W hen Saker entered the Prime’s office in the Ardronese royal city of Throssel for the first time, Valerian Fox was seated behind a table at the far end of the room. As he approached, trying to soften the noise of his footsteps on the wooden floor, Fox said, without prior greeting, “I fail to understand what sort of service you’ll be providing the Prince and Princess that they don’t already receive.”
How in all
His father shrugged. “You think I care?”
“What’s the secret? Why won’t you tell me about her?”
His father glared at him in silence.
“What was her relationship to Arbiter, now Pontifect, Fritillary Reedling?”
“Ah, so that’s it, is it?” He grinned, revealing several missing teeth. “Now you’re a cleric wearing your pretty medallion, you want to know how cosy you can get with the Pontifect on the top of the heap, eh?”
“Don’t bother to tell me lies.”
“Oh, I’ll not do that. She’d have my guts on her platter if I told you what I know.”
“She? Fritillary Reedling?”
“Bitch made me swear I’d never utter a word. Not to you, nor anyone else. And that’s the way it’s going to be. You don’t mess with the bull in the herd, and she’s the snorting bull in this case, for all that she lacks a pizzle. Forget it, Saker. You’re never going to find out about your dam from me.”
Fritillary
had forced his father’s silence, not the other way around? He stared, trying to decide who to believe.
Fritillary, of course. When was your da ever honest with you?
Before he could say anything, his father added, “Your ma left you, you know. Ran off and left you here with me. That’s how much she cared. And then word came she was dead.” He laughed.
Saker drew in a sharp breath. “Blister your lying tongue, Da. I don’t believe it!”
“Believe what you will, you ninny. She didn’t care enough to stay, or to take her mewling son with her. I didn’t want you, but she left you anyway.”
Just then, the door of the house opened and his stepmother came out, carrying a pail. She stopped dead when she saw him. “My, the brat is back again. What the hog’s piddle do
you
want?” She put down the pail, placed her hands on her hips and thrust her chin out in his direction.
Va-less damn,
he thought.
They
have
come down in the world
. There’d been a time when she would never have lugged a pail. They’d had servants to do that.
“Naught to do with you,” his father said to her. “Go back in the house and mind your hearth.”
For a moment, Saker thought she might defy her husband, but in the end she shrugged and went inside. His father turned to him, saying, “Get going, you botch of nature. Clear out, and don’t come here again. You’ll learn naught from me. You want the truth, go talk to that Pontifect of yours. She’s the one who knows and she’s the one who’ll feed me to the pigs if I utter a word she don’t approve of.” With that remark, he stomped away across the yard.
Saker hesitated, wondering if there was anything else he could say that would make a difference. In the end he decided there wasn’t. His mother wouldn’t have left him. His father was lying, of course he was.
On his way back to the village road, he crossed the stone bridge over the stream where he’d learned to swim. The rushes still grew along the bank and the ducks still dabbled there. He led his horse down to drink, his mind drifting back to his boyhood. His favourite game had been to hide under the water, breathing through a hollow rush stalk, until his young half-brothers had been scared out of their wits thinking him dead.
… the corpse and the bit o’ wood bobbing alongside…
Not
floating
, flat on top of the water, but bobbing, like a floating bottle. He stood still, mouth falling open.
Sweet Va, that bloody lascar
.
Bambu was hollow. Ardhi was no more drowned than he himself had been as a boy.
7
A Witan at Court
W hen Saker entered the Prime’s office in the Ardronese royal city of Throssel for the first time, Valerian Fox was seated behind a table at the far end of the room. As he approached, trying to soften the noise of his footsteps on the wooden floor, Fox said, without prior greeting, “I fail to understand what sort of service you’ll be providing the Prince and Princess that they don’t already receive.”
How in all
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