“How do you propose to help me? What is my role in this? You’ve come in here threatening the safety of my matron consort.” Taul’s voice rose at the end, louder than he intended, his throat strained.

Ren looked at him with a sudden gentleness. “I noticed that about you,” he said. “How you care for her. Not soured at all.”

Taul held his head as the throbbing continued. The need to do everything necessary for her.

“I want to help you help her,” Ren said. “With a child.”

Taul looked up, stroking his jaw and neck, easing the heat down.

“I can get you one, a fine one,” Ren continued. “I know all the places ripe for picking.”

Taul wanted to be disgusted at the very thought Lor’Toshtolin could be party to this… this enterprise.

“Do you have any notion of what you’d like?” Ren asked.

Ideas whirled. Faces came to mind, faces of the young men and women from houses he knew. It was obscene, but he said, “Any Mornae boy will do. Let the goddess decide.”

Let this miscreant be her tool, he thought.

“Are you sure?” Ren pressed. “I mean you could have a high lord’s child, or a beggar’s.”

Taul said stiffly, “Preferably of decent stock. But otherwise, I leave it to you. Let the goddess decide.”

It was all a travesty, a massive offense, but there was only stillness in Taul’s heart. What he did was for his matron and house, and before there was the Fifth Accord with its oaths and pledges to a high house, there was the first: a Matron is the voice of the goddess, her visage, her presence. To serve one’s house in the form of her priestess was everything. All the instruction and teaching of his youth bubbled up into an irrefutable judgment. Even the tender’s instruction buoyed his conscience. What was the orchard but the extension of the goddess, made manifest in the black trunks and dark green leaves? Without her, without her priestess, none of it was possible. None of it mattered.

The rogue seemed pleased. “I know just the boy, impeccable lineage… and unwanted.” He seemed to have added the last bit to ease Taul’s concern.

“I don’t want anyone harmed,” Taul said. “No more mistakes. By the goddess, I beg you.”

Ren bowed his head. “I swear it.”

“Have you told anyone about me?” Taul asked.

“Not a word. I’m burned now. It will come out eventually. Nothing ever stays buried for too long. They’ve got the goddess-dogs on me. Did you see them in the markets?”

“No, but I’ve heard.”

“Fierce things, all smoking with eyes like stars. They never forget a scent.”

“So they say.”

“I’ve made a mess of things, milord.”

Taul didn’t mention those that knew about Ren. Those who might raise an accusatory finger, and beyond him Hosmyr itself. All it would take was linking the acolyte’s death to Ren.

Ren shrugged, and Taul empathized, but would not show him any mercy. There was still the bone-deep desire to slay the man. He’d committed a foul crime in killing the acolyte. Houses went to war for much less. The man had committed unthinkable crimes besides those and now Taul was a party to them.

All for his consort, to set her right, to set her firm as head of the house.

“When will it happen?” Taul asked, eager for the man to take his leave. The estate would stir soon.

“Oh, I think it will be next spring, probably.”

“So late? What if you are caught by then?”

“I had thought to lie low for a while, get things straight.”

Taul shook his head.

“Why the rush?” Ren asked.

“There is more happening.”

“They pressing you?”

Taul turned to him, surprised this ruffian knew so much. But of course, he was Maunyn’s man. The things he must have seen!

“Yes, they are,” he confessed. A hideous, boulder-sized ache settled in his gut to share Toshtolin’s weakness with this… this gutter rat. “A child could solve so many problems.”

“Just a few months' wait. Winter might be a better time.”

“No, it must be now,” Taul said firmly. “As soon as possible. Are you capable of it?”

Ren looked down. “I am. And you’re right. It should be soon, while the heart is hot with purpose. While the goddess-light is on me.”

“Do not leave her waiting, then,” Taul said. His coldness shocked him, but he let it linger. “Her justice must be swift.” He said the words, but not for him, nor the goddess. For his house, for Ryldia, he would press this man to enter the death gate itself.

“Very well, then,” Ren said. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

“How will I know?”

“You’ll know.”

“But not here,” Taul said, worried this scoundrel would start making himself too familiar. “Too risky.”

“In the woods out back,” Ren said.

“The orchard?”

“Yes, there. In the dark part, where you like to walk.”

Taul swallowed and nodded. There was a sudden urge to race to the bed, take the knife, and stab the man where he stood. He felt vulnerable, but this, too, needed to be.

“Very well,” he agreed. “Leave by the northeast gate.”

Ren smirked, and Taul’s heart sank. The rogue knew everything about the estate already. He made a small bow and checked the hall. Shadows rushed up around him and he vanished, except for that minuscule border around him, that quivering place where two worlds touched.

He gave a wave and was gone.