He shook his head, angry at himself, and ashamed, too. If he took advantage of her weakness, how was he any different from an Algarvian? “For now,” he answered, “you will stay here. No one will molest you. You will have food and water. After the war is over, we shall decide your permanent fate.”
“If the redheads win, we can all go and throw ourselves back into the sea,” a man said.
He was probably-in fact, he was almost certainly-right. But Hajjaj countered, “If Unkerlant wins, what will become of us Zuwayzin? Much the same, I fear. We shall protect ourselves, and we shall do our best to protect you as well.”
“We thank you,” the striking young woman said, and the rest of the blonds, three or four dozen of them, solemnly nodded. She went on, “We feared you would sink our boats or give us over to King Mezentio’s men. Anything this side of that seems a miracle of kindness.”
Again, all the Kaunians nodded. If common decency seemed a miracle. . “What will be left of everything we’ve spent so long building up by the time this cursed war finally ends?” Hajjaj asked. No one answered him. He hadn’t thought anyone would.
The excitement of going up to Yliharma was dead inside Pekka. It had been since the Algarvians, with their brutal sorcery, almost leveled the capital of Kuusamo. But, like it or not, research called her out of the south. She was sure she wasn’t the only nervous passenger on the ley-line caravan.
When the caravan pulled into the depot in Yliharma, Pekka grimaced at the cracked walls patched with pale new cement. She also wondered how well the patches would hold if the Algarvians renewed their sorcerous assault on the city. With all her heart, she hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
Siuntio stood waiting for her on the platform. “Here, let me take your bag,” the old theoretical sorcerer said, reaching for it.
“I’ll do no such thing, Master,” Pekka said indignantly. “I can carry it myself.” Siuntio had aged visibly since they’d started working together. Maybe the strain of the sorcery was telling on him, or maybe the aftermath of the shock from the attack on Yliharma … or maybe he was simply drawing toward the end of his time. Wherever the truth lay, he looked as if a strong breeze would blow him off the platform. Pekka knew she was stronger than he.
He had to know it, too; his sigh was wistful, not angry. “Well, come along, then,” he said. “I trust the Principality will suffice?”
“Oh, no. I want something grander.” Pekka sounded even more indignant than she had a moment before. Then she laughed. So did Siuntio. Yliharma had no hostel grander than the Principality. Setubal might. On the other hand, it might not, too. Pekka went on, “You’ll spoil me, you know.”
“I doubt it,” Siuntio said. “And even if we should manage it, running around after that scamp of an Uto should unspoil you pretty soon.”
“Hard to be spoiled when you’re exhausted,” Pekka agreed. She gave the senior mage a sidelong glance. “We both have to run around after that scamp of an Ilmarinen, don’t we?”
Siuntio wheezed laughter. “I’ve been running around after Ilmarinen longer than you’ve been alive. I take a certain amount of pride in noting that I’ve made him run around after me a few times, too.” He waved to a horse-drawn cab. The driver descended from his perch and held the door open. “The Principality,” Siuntio said as he handed Pekka up into the cab.
“Aye, sir,” the driver said respectfully. Pekka didn’t think he knew who Siuntio was, but anyone who wanted to go to the fancy hostel had to be a person of more than a little consequence.
The hostel lay only a few blocks from the depot. That was true of most newer hostels, which were sensibly close to the greatest source of travelers. Older ones stood near the hill on which the palace stood and along the road west to Lagoas.
Almost as if they were so many Algarvians, the servitors at the Principality bowed and scraped and fussed over Pekka when she came into the lobby. It wasn’t because she had Siuntio walking by her side, either. To her mind, that would have been reason enough to bow and scrape and fuss. But the folk who worked at the hostel neither knew nor cared who Siuntio was. They fussed over Pekka for no better reason than that she had money. Had she been a trollop rich enough to afford the Principality, they would have treated her the same way. The idea made Pekka angry.
“Money shouldn’t count for more than quality,” she said to Siuntio.
He took her ire in stride. As best she could tell, he took everything-except occasionally Ilmarinen-in stride. “Money is easier to measure,” he replied- and what else was a working theoretical sorcerer likely to say?
Pekka stuck out her chin and looked stubborn. “Sometimes the easy measurement isn’t the important one.” She was a working theoretical sorcerer, too.
Instead of answering right away, Siuntio leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She spluttered in surprise. The old mage’s smile was saucy. “Go on upstairs. Order yourself a fancy supper the Seven Princes are paying for. Enjoy the steam room and then sluice yourself down with cold water. Some people used to think being a sorcerer meant depriving yourself of everything that made life worth living. Do you still?”
“You know better,” she answered.
“Aye, I do, for I’ve seen your home,” Siuntio said. “You have no home in Yliharma, so you’re doomed to enjoy yourself here. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turned and went out to the waiting cab. Pekka stared after him with mingled exasperation and affection. Then, seeing no other good choice, she went on upstairs and did exactly what Siuntio had suggested.
The mattress in her little suite was wider and sorter and altogether more inviting than the one she used at home. Even so, she didn’t sleep well. For one thing, she didn’t have Leino lying there beside her stealing the coverlets and doing his best to make sure she froze. For another, no matter how inviting the bed was, it was also unfamiliar. Pekka tossed and turned and laughed at herself. I’m too comfortable to doze off, she thought. However absurd it sounded, it was true. Eventually, she did fall asleep.
After an extravagant breakfast of smoked salmon and delicate onions on rye bread, she went downstairs. Siuntio and Ilmarinen waited for her in the lobby. Siuntio looked not much different from the way he had the night before. When she saw Ilmarinen, though, her first thought was that he’d had too much to drink and was suffering on account of it.
“So you’re here to join the vultures’ feast, eh?” he said, and she realized it was fury, not a hangover, that reddened his eyes and made the wrinkles in his cheeks and on his forehead seem deeper and more eroded-looking than she’d ever seen them.
“I’m here, aye,” she said. “As for feasts, I don’t know about any except the one I just finished in my room.”
Ilmarinen rounded on Siuntio. “Powers above, you quack, didn’t you tell her?”
Siuntio shook his head. “No. I wanted her to approach the question with an open mind-which she will do now.” But, despite plainly doing his best to sound assured, he also sounded a little embarrassed.
“What didn’t you tell me, Master Siuntio?” Pekka asked sharply. “Whatever it was, I wish I’d known about it.”
Ilmarinen started to answer. Siuntio held up a hand. For a wonder, that made Ilmarinen hesitate. To Pekka, Siuntio said, “Nothing you won’t find out now: that I promise you. If you come along with this excitable fellow and me, you’ll see as much for yourself.”
He led her toward one of the meeting chambers off the main lobby. Quietly, she said, “Don’t ever keep things from me again, if you please.”
“I did what I judged best,” Siuntio answered.
“And she’s worth three of you because of it, you old fraud,” Ilmarinen growled. He wasn’t enjoying Siuntio’s discomfiture, as he would have most of the time. He was too angry for that. Pekka wondered what could have caused the rift between them, and how she’d somehow landed in the middle of it.