The Merchant’s War

"Don't worry, you're not under restriction." Lady Bishop's frown momentarily quirked into a smile. "Unfortunately, if Miss Beckstein is telling the truth, it's very bad news indeed. It appears she fell into disfavor with her family of the first estate-to the point where they imprisoned her, and then attempted to marry her off. But the arranged marriage provoked a violent backlash from the swain's elder brother, and it seems she is now destitute and in search of a safe harbor. Her family doesn't even know if she's still alive, and she believes many of them are dead. Which leaves me with a very pressing dilemma, Erasmus. If this was subterfuge or skulduggery, some kind of plot to pressure us by her relatives, it would be easy enough to address. But under the circumstances, what should I do with her?"

Burgeson opened his mouth to speak, then froze. Think very carefully, because your next words might condemn her. "I, ah, that is to say-" He paused, feeling the chilly lingers of mortal responsibility grasp the scruff of his neck like a hangman's noose. "You invited me here to be her advocate," he accused.

Lady Bishop nodded. "Somebody has to do it."

The situation was clear enough. The movement existed from day to day in mortal peril, and had no room for deadweight. Prisons were a luxury that only governments could afford. At least she invited me here to speak, he realized. It was a generous gesture, taken at no small risk given the exigencies of communication discipline and the omnipresent threat of the royal security Polis. Despite the organization's long-standing policies, Lady Bishop was evidently looking for an excuse not to have Miriam liquidated. Heartened by this realization, Erasmus relaxed a little. "You said she turned up on your doorstep. Did she come here voluntarily?"

"Yes." Lady Bishop nodded again.

"Ah. Then that would imply that she views us as allies, or at least as possible saviors. Assuming she isn't working for the Polis and this isn't an ambush-but after three days I think that unlikely, don't you? If she is then, well, the ball is up for us both. But she's got a story and she's been sticking to it for three days...? Under extraordinary pressure?"

"No pressure. At least, nothing but her own isolation."

Erasmus came to a decision. "She's been a major asset in the past, and I am sure that she isn't a government sympathizer. If we take her in, I'm certain we can make use of her special talents." He put his teacup down. "Killing her would be a-" tragic "-waste."

Lady Bishop stared at him for a few seconds, her expression still. Then she nodded yet again, thoughtfully. "I concur," she said briskly.

"Well, I confess I am relieved." He scratched his head, staring at the picture she still held.

"I value your opinions, Erasmus, you must know that. I needed a second on this matter; my first leaning was to find a use for her, but you know her best and if you had turned your thumb down-" she paused. "Is there a personal interest I should know about?"

He looked up. "Not really. I consider her a friend, and I find her company refreshing, but there's nothing more." Nothing more, he echoed ironically in the safety of his own head. "I incline towards leniency for all those who are not agents of the state-I think it unchristian and indecent to mete out such punishment as I have been on the receiving end of-but if I thought for an instant that she was a threat to the movement I'd do the deed myself." And that was the bald unvarnished truth-a successful spy would condemn dozens, even hundreds, to the gallows and labor camps. But it was not the entire truth, for it would be a harsh act to live with afterwards: conceivably an impossible one.

Lady Bishop sipped her tea again. "Then I think you'll be the best man for the job."

"What job?"

"Finding a use for her, of course. In your copious spare time, when you're not off being Sir Adam's errand boy."

Erasmus blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'd have thought it obvious." She put her teacup down. "We can't keep her here. Her inexperience would render her dangerous, her strange ideas and ways would be hazardous and hard to conceal in the front of the house, and, bluntly, I think she'd draw unwelcome attention to herself. If we're not to send her to the Miller, it's essential to put her somewhere safe. You're the only person she knows or trusts here, so you drew the short straw. Moreover, I suspect you know more about how to make use of her unique ability than I do. So, unless you protest, I'm going to assign her to you as an additional responsibility, after you see to Adam's travel arrangements. Take her in and establish how we can use her. What do you say?"

"I say- urn." His head was spinning: Erasmus blinked again. "That is to say, that makes sense, but-"