'Who?
'Women. All of them.
'Is everyone in this city a cynic? Edeard asked that evening.
Jessile pulled a beer bottle out of the wicker hamper she'd brought. 'Who's cynical?
'Everybody, so it seems. Or maybe I'm just paranoid.
She smiled sweetly. 'You probably are.
'Thanks. Edeard took the bottle and flopped down on to the maisonette's heavy old couch. He felt exhausted, even though all he'd done was sit around in court all day. Victory should have perked him up, yet all it seemed to have done was raise another bout of questions and doubt. How he longed for things to be as they were before Birmingham Pool. Life had been so much simpler then.
'Put your feet on the stool, I'll pull your boots off.
He leant back and did as he was told. It was nice having Jessile around. After that final night with Ranalee he'd almost sworn off family girls for life. Except he remembered how genuinely nice Jessile was, almost the opposite of Ranalee. She was undemanding. Enthusiastic in bed. And discreet. At least she was now. Which was a good thing, he reflected. He was desperate to recover some of his public dignity after those months of excess following Birmingham Pool.
Her fiance hadn't been in the city for three days before he was sent back out again, much to her dismay. They hadn't even managed to set a day for the wedding. So in the meantime, she was happy to carry on seeing him — just not so visibly.
Two lonely people basically, he thought. There were few mornings when he didn't look out of the window, searching the brighter skies which would signal Salrana's return.
He glanced guiltily at the letter propped up in one of the maisonette's alcoves. It had arrived yesterday. Salrana had written it three weeks earlier. That was how long a letter took to reach
Makkathran from Tralsher province. In it she explained how she might have to stay on for a few more weeks. The Mothers were desperate for help, she said, and she couldn't let them down. There were so many people who looked to the Church for help in Ufford.
'Lian got twenty-five years, Edeard said as they sat down to supper. His ge-monkeys had been busy preparing the food the chefs in her mansion had packed in the hamper. 'The others got between three and eleven years.
'That's good, she said.
'Really? Have you noticed a drop in crime?
'Did you mention something about cynicism?
'Sorry.
'He's going to be another six weeks at least.
'Who? Oh. Right.
'I got a letter this morning. They're staying on in Reutte province to help another town. Eriach, I think.
'Yeah, it's on the western side of the Ulfsen Mountains.
'You know it?
'I passed it on my way here.
'Well, they've got bandit trouble now.
Edeard looked up from the asparagus and kafish quiche. 'What sort of trouble?
'Raids on hamlets, and the roads aren't safe. Honestly, the militia pushed them out of the estates around Tetuan and they just pop up again a few miles away.
'They have a habit of doing that. Frightening them away isn't good enough. They'll just come back later. If you want to be rid of them, you've got to push them back and back until they've nowhere to run to any more. Don't give them anywhere to hide. Then you can go in for the kill. He stopped. 'That might work.
'What?
'Nothing, just an idea.
'There's not even any certainty that Eustace will come back after Eriach. Suppose the bandits appear somewhere else? She started turning her silver vine ring, unconsciously rubbing the diamond.
He put his hand on hers, squeezing lightly. 'He'll be back.
'Thanks. I know.
'Did he mention if they have guns?
'Guns? No. He hasn't said. Do you think it's likely? He might get shot!
'Some bandits have guns. Not many, Edeard lied quickly, allowing her to sense a calm confidence in his thoughts. 'They just get hold of the odd pistol from farms, that kind of thing. To be honest, pistols have a very limited range anyway.
'Oh. She gave him a nervous smile. 'Don't scare me like that.
'Sorry. No sane bandit is going to tangle with a mounted militia squad. He'll be perfectly safe. You'll be married off by midsummer.
'I hate that he had to go. It's all politics. Mayor Owain only sent the militia so he can look strong and benevolent at the same time. That's what Daddy said. And I'll bet Owain's Guild merchants are there following the militia around, selling guns to the locals.
'See? Everyone's a cynic'
She grinned at him. 'I guess we are.
'Owain might have sent the militia for political gain, but it's been beneficial. Reutte needed help. The local sheriffs couldn't cope. Quite a few farming families have arrived in the city since New Year. I spoke with some of them; they were forced off their land.
'I know.
'He will come back.
'Thank you, Edeard. You're a lovely man.
After the meal they settled down to read a book Jessile had brought. Kadril's Voyage, which told of the legendary merchantmen captain who'd opened up the trade route to the south, finding a navigable route through the Straits of Gathsawal. Edeard enjoyed the tales of ocean life and fights against pirates, even though he suspected the author had enlivened the tales somewhat. They took it in turns to read to each other, slowly sipping red wine as the coal in the stove hissed and snapped. Edeard felt the tensions drain away from him. This was what he wanted his life to be like. Success in the courts, pushing the gangs from the streets, then home. Not back to the maisonette, but a true home, one with Salrana, maybe. He'd even seen a few vacant buildings in Cobara and Igadi that were possibles. They would need the room eventually, he hoped, for the children. Children who would know a city without the shadow of crime and the excesses of the families; playing in streets and parks where they were safe. And it could be done, his idea had been growing since supper, expanding in that lazy way that certainties possessed.
'You look a lot happier, Jessile murmured. She closed the book and leaned in against him.
'You have a soothing voice, he told her.
Her nose rubbed against his cheek. 'My voice, is it?
'Yes.
'I wish you had a piano in here. I'm quite an accomplished player, you know. Music would be extra soothing.
It was that casual grumble which made him smile so merrily. She really had no idea how little a constable earned; on his pay it would take months for him to buy a piano. 'We'd never get it up the stairs.
'Never mind. She kissed him, her thick hair brushing his face and neck. 'I bought a new satin chemise today. It's not very big, I'm afraid. Would you like to see me wearing it? Well… trying to wear it.
'Yes.
'Say please.
'Please, he croaked hoarsely.
She got up, showing him a truly immoral smile. 'Back in a minute. She picked up the hamper and disappeared into the bathroom.
Edeard took a breath to recover. He was beaming in anticipation as he rolled off the couch and ordered the light down to a cosy glimmer. At which point he became aware of Vilby walking over the bridge into Silvarum. 'Oh Lady, no! he groaned.
'What's the matter? Jessile called out.
'Er, I'm really sorry about this, but—
The squad was waiting where Edeard had told them, huddled together under an overhanging wall on Golard Street, where the pavement was only four feet wide. It was dark, with the nearest light coming from behind the undulations of a nebuly moulding on the wall two houses down.
'Saria was furious with me, Boyd was saying. 'It was her great-aunt's annual ball, half the District Master families were there. He was dressed in a splendid cerise frock coat, with a white shirt that was all lace frills. Silver buckles gleamed on his knee-length boots.