“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.
Taul let out the deepest breath. His hands trembled, then shook. He held them tight on his lap.
“Goddess above,” he said through clenched teeth, “grant me strength to do my duty.”
His will simmered warmly in his breast, strong in its decision, sure of it. It was the most natural and true thing he could do.
46
Standing in a one-room cottage, dressed like a magistrate’s courier, Ren flipped through a thresher’s debt claims and, finally, his contract with Lor’Sarstin.
“It all looks in order,” Ren said. “They owe you a great deal.”
Not that much, even with his emptying vault, but it was everything to a man living in a one-room cottage—a hovel, really. The thresher slept on a cot on one side with his threshing equipment and other tools on the other. The tools were clean and assembled like a row of spearmen; his clothes, lovingly mended, hung neatly from pegs. It was fine stitching, and one tunic had lovely embroidery along the neck.
Ren sighed. The man must have the interest of a priestess.
“The Owls have money,” Hugos, a thresher, said. “They’ve been throwing it around like seed, emptying the work lines, but I’ve got this contract for another six years.”
“And you’ll honor it?”
