Soul of the Fire

Teresa looked askance at him. She knew him well enough to know by his subtle reply that a scheme was afoot. She also knew enough to take his lead and play the part he had just assigned her. She smiled and hooked a hand over his offered arm. Claudine was not the only intelligent and resourceful woman in the household.

Claudine flinched when Teresa touched the back of her shoulder. She twitched a smile as she glanced up briefly.

"Good evening, Teresa." She dropped a half-curtsy to Dalton. "Mr. Campbell."

Teresa, concern creasing her brow, leaned toward the woman. "Claudine, what's wrong? You don't look well. And your dress, why, I don't recall you coming in wearing this."

Claudine pulled at a lock of hair over her ear. "I'm fine.

I… was just nervous about all the guests. Sometimes crowds get my stomach worked up. I went for a walk to get some air. In the dark, I guess I put my foot in a hole, or something. I fell."

"Dear spirits. Would you" like to sit?" Dalton asked as he took the woman's elbow, as if to hold her up. "Here, let me help you to a chair."

She dug in her heels. "No. I'm fine. But thank you. I soiled my dress, and had to go change, that's all. That's why it's not the same one. But I'm fine."

She glanced at his sword as he pulled back. He had seen her looking at a lot of swords since she returned to the gathering hall.

"You look as if something is-"

"No," she insisted. "I hit my head, that's why I look so shaken. I'm fine. Really. It simply shook my confidence."

"I understand," Dalton said sympathetically. "Things like that make one realize how short life can be. Make you realize how"-he snapped his fingers-"you could go at any time."

Her lip trembled. She had to swallow before she could speak. "Yes. I see what you mean. But I feel much better, now. My balance is back."

"Is it now? I'm not so sure."

Teresa pushed at him. "Dalton, can't you see the poor woman is shaken?" She gave him another push. "Go on and talk your business while I see to poor Claudine."

Dalton bowed and moved off to allow Teresa some privacy to find out what she would. He was pleased with the two Haken boys. It looked as if they had put the fear of the Keeper into her. By the unsteady way she walked, they had obviously delivered the message in the way he had wanted it delivered. Violence always helped people understand instructions.

He was gratified to know he had judged Fitch correctly. The way the boy stared at Dalton's sword, he knew. Claudine's eyes reflected fear when she looked at his sword; Fitch's eyes held lust. The boy had ambition. Morley was useful, too, but mostly as muscle. His head, too, was not much more than muscle. Fitch understood instructions better and, as eager as he was, would be of more use. At that age they had no clue how much they didn't know.

Dalton shook hands with a man who rushed up to pay him a compliment about his new position. He presented a civil face, but didn't remember the man's name, or really hear the effusive praise; Dalton's attention was elsewhere.

Director Linscott was just finishing speaking with a stocky man about taxes on the wheat stored in the man's warehouses. No trifling matter, considering the vast stores of grain Anderith held. Dalton politely, distantly, extracted himself from the nameless man and sidled closer to Linscott.

When the Director turned, Dalton smiled warmly at him and clasped his hand before he had a chance to withdraw it. He had a powerful grip. His hands still bore the calluses of his life's work.

"I am so glad you could make it to the feast, Director Linscott. I pray you are enjoying the evening, so far. We yet have much the Minister would like to discuss."

Director Linscott, a tall wiry fellow with a sun-rumpled face invariably looking as if he were plagued by an everlasting toothache, didn't return the smile. The four oldest Directors were guild masters. One was from the important clothmaking guild, one from the associated papermaking guild, another a master armorer, and Linscott. Linscott was a master mason. Most of the remaining Directors were respected moneylenders or merchants, along with a solicitor and several barristers.

Director Linscott's surcoat was an outdated cut, but finely kept nonetheless, and the warm brown went well with the man's thin gray hair. His sword, too, was old, but the leather scabbard's exquisite brassware at the throat and tip was in gleaming condition. The silver emblem-the mason's dividers-stood out hi bright silhouette against the dark leather. The sword's blade, undoubtedly, would be just as well maintained as everything else about the man.

Linscott didn't deliberately try to intimidate people, it just seemed to come naturally to him, the way a surly disposition came naturally to a mother brown bear with cubs. Linscott considered the Anderith people, those working fields, or hauling nets, or at employment in a trade through a guildhall, his cubs.