Ren wheezed behind him, a pathetic little whine. “I’m not here to kill you, if you must know.”
“Can I sit then? I’m exhausted.”
“You should practice more. That’s why you’re tired. You burn too hot and fast.”
“Can I sit there?” Taul asked, pointing to a chair.
“Sure, why not,” Ren said.
Taul slumped into the chair, the blade hanging limply from his hand.
“Toss that on the bed,” Ren said, and Taul obliged.
“What is it you want, then?”
“I must make amends, Taul Lor’Toshtolin.”
In the past, Taul might have smirked at a commoner’s formality, like he was true Mornae, but not now, not after all he’d seen. Instead, he sat up, earnest, and asked, “How do you plan to do it?”
“By getting you what you most need. By helping you save your house—a true house, a house that does no wrong and makes trees grow where they shouldn’t. Isn’t it time for a house like yours to win?”
The words spilled out of the rogue, and tears welled in his eyes.
“How many children have you taken for Maunyn?” Taul asked.
“Not for him. For the high matron. She’s the one who wants them. Maunyn mostly makes them.”
Taul masked his shock and surprise. “What is this all for? Surely not for chits.”
Ren scoffed. “They pay… sometimes enormous amounts. Makes no sense. But I don’t ask, right?”
“No, of course not.”
“And they make little sense.”
“What?”
“The children. Some are handsome, what you’d think a Mornae should be and others not. I thought I understood, but then gave up.” Ren shook his head. “No sense at all.”
“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.”
