Rulers of the Darkness

"As a matter of fact, he did drop a hint or two," Talsu said. At that, Gailisa let out such a furious squawk, everyone else hurried up to find out what was wrong. Talsu had to explain all over again, which led to more furious squawks.

Traku said, "Don't go back and study the old language with him again. Don't have anything to do with him, if you can help it."

"I would like to learn more classical Kaunian," Talsu said. "If the redheads think it's worth knowing- and they do- we ought to know it, too."

"Fair enough." His father nodded. "But don't study with that son of a whore of a silversmith. Find somebody else who knows it or find yourself a book and learn from that."

"I was thinking that if I got close to him…" Talsu's voice trailed away.

"No. No, no, and no," Traku said. "If you hang around him and something happens to him, what will the Algarvians do? Blame you, that's what. That's not what you want, is it? It had better not be."

"Ah," Talsu murmured. His father made an uncomfortable amount of sense. He did want something to happen to Kugu, and he didn't want Mezentio's men to pin it on him. But after a little thought, he said, "I may not have as much choice as I'd like. If I act like I can't stand the bugger, that's liable to be enough to get him to give me to the Algarvians all over again."

Gailisa spoke up: "Just tell him you're too busy working to go out of nights. He won't be able to say a word about that. The way the Algarvians squeeze us these days, everybody has to run as fast as he can to stay in one place."

"That's not bad," Talsu said. "It's not even a lie, either."

"Maybe you won't see him at all," his mother said. "I'll send Ausra to the market instead of you for a while. And I don't suppose Master Kugu would have the crust to stick his nose through this door after the trouble he caused you- the trouble he caused every one of us."

Ausra stuck out her tongue at Talsu. "See? Now I'm going to have to do your work," she said. "You'd better find a way to make that up to me."

"I will," he said, which looked to astonish his sister. In fact, he only half heard her. He was thinking about ways to make things up to Kugu, ways to make something dreadful happen to the silversmith without drawing suspicion to himself.

Gailisa must have seen as much. That night, while they lay crowded together in their narrow bed, she said, "Don't do anything foolish."

"I won't." Talsu hugged her to him. "The only really foolish thing I ever did was trust him in the first place. I won't make that mistake again any time soon."

The next morning, his father remarked, "You don't want to do anything right away, you know."

"Who says I don't want to?" Talsu answered. They sat side by side in the tailor's shop, working on heavy wool quilts for a couple of Algarvians who would be going from warm, sunny Jelgava to Unkerlant, a land that was anything but. Traku looked at him in some alarm. He went on, "I won't, because it would give me away, but that doesn't say anything about what I want to do."

"All right," Traku said, and then, a moment later, "No, curse it, it isn't all right. Look what you made me do. You frightened me so there, my finishing spell went all awry." The pleat he'd sewn by hand was perfectly straight. The spell should have made all the others match it. Instead, they twisted every which way, as jagged as the skyline of the Bratanu Mountains on the border between Jelgava and Algarve.

"I'm sorry," Talsu said.

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't cut any cloth. I ought to box your ears," Traku grumbled. "Now I'm going to have to remember that spell of undoing. Powers above, I hope I can; I haven't had to use it in a while. I ought to make you rip all these seams out by hand, is what I ought to do."

Still fuming, Talsu's father muttered to himself, trying to make sure he had the words to the spell of undoing right. Talsu would have offered to help, but wasn't sure he could. No good tailor needed the spell of undoing very often. When Traku did begin his new chant, Talsu listened intently. No, he hadn't had all the words straight. He would now, though.

After calling out the last command, Traku grunted in relief. "There. That's taken care of, anyhow. No thanks to you, either." He glared at Talsu. "Now I get to do the finishing spell over again. You're going to cost me an hour's work with your foolishness. I hope you're happy."

"Happy? No." But Talsu glanced over to his father. "D'you suppose we could build the spell of undoing into some of the clothes we make for the redheads, so their tunics and kilts would fall to pieces, say, six months after they got to Unkerlant?"

"We could, maybe, but I wouldn't." Traku shook his head. "You don't shit where you eat, and we eat with the clothes we make."

Talsu sighed. "All right. That makes sense. I wish it didn't. We have to be able to do something about the Algarvians."