Faith of the Fallen

She would look up hopefully and ask him to contribute to the efforts of her fellowship. He would ask how much. Peering up into his eyes as if searching for some shred of human decency, she would name a figure. He would sigh and agree, His hands would settle around her waist, and he would say that it was late, and that they should retire to bed.

Once, when he asked her how much she wished him to contribute, she shrugged and said, "I don't know. What does your conscience tell you, Howard? But, a man of true compassion would do better than you usually do, considering that you have more than your fair share of wealth, and the need is so great."

He sighed. "How much do you and your friends need?"

"It is not me and my friends who need it, Howard, but the masses of humanity crying out for help. Our fellowship simply struggles to meet the need."

"How much?" he repeated.

She said, "Five hundred gold crowns," as if the number were a club she had been hiding behind her back, and, seeing the opening she had been waiting for, she suddenly brandished it to bully him.

With a gasp, Father staggered back a step. "Do you have any idea of the work required to make a sum of that size?"

"You do no work, Howard-your slaves do it for you."

"Slaves! They are the finest craftsmen!"

"They should be. You steal the best workers from all over the land."

"I pay the best wages in the land! They are eager to work for me!"

"They are the poor victims of your tricks. You exploit them. You charge more than anyone else. You have connections and make deals to cut out other armorers. You steal the food from the mouths of working people, just to line your own pockets."

"I offer the finest work! People buy from me because they want the best. I charge a fair price for it."

"No one charges as much as you and that's the simple fact. You always want more. Gold is your only goal."

"People come to me willingly because I have the highest standards. That is my goal! The other shops produce haphazard work that doesn't proof out.

My tempering is superior. My work is all proofed to a double-stamp standard.

I won't sell inferior work. People trust me; they know I create the best pieces."

"Your workers do. You simply rake in the money."

"The profits go to wages and to the business-I just sank a fortune into the new battering-mill!"

"Business, business, business! When I ask you to give a little something back to the community, to those in need, you act as if I wanted you to gouge out your eyes. Would you really rather see people die than to give a pittance to save them? Does money really mean more to you, Howard, than people's lives? Are you that cruel and unfeeling a man?"

Father hung his head for a time, and at last quietly agreed to send his man around with the gold. His voice came gentle again. He said he didn't want people to die, and he hoped the money would help. He told her it was time for bed.

"You've put me off, Howard, with your arguing. You couldn't just give charitably of yourself; it always has to be dragged out of you-when it's the right thing to do in the first place. You only agree now because of your lecherous needs. Honestly, do you think I have no principles?"

Father simply turned and headed for the door. He paused as he suddenly saw Nicci sitting on the floor, watching. The look on his face frightened her, not because it was angry, or fierce, but because there seemed to be so much in his eyes, and the weight of never being able to express it was crushing him. Raising Nicci was Mother's work, and he had promised her he would not meddle.

He swept his blond hair back from his forehead, then turned and picked up his coat. In a level voice he said to Mother that he was going to go see to some things at work.

After he was gone, Mother, too, saw Nicci, forgotten on the floor, playing with beads on a board, pretending to make chain mail. Her arms folded, she stood over Nicci for a long moment.

"Your father goes to whores, you know. I'm sure that's where he's off to now: a whore. You may be too young to understand, but I want you to know, so that you don't ever put any faith in him. He's an evil man. I'll not be his whore.

"Now, put away your things and come with Mother. I'm going to see my friends.

It's time you came along and began learning about the needs of others, instead of just your own wants."

At her friend's house, there were a few men and several women sitting and talking in serious tones. When they politely inquired after Father, Nicci's mother reported that he was off, "working or whoring, I don't know which, and can control neither." Some of the women laid a hand on her her arm and comforted her. It was a terrible burden she bore, they said.

Across the room sat a silent man, who looked to Nicci as grim as death itself.